


future circuit

by moonlights0nata



Series: connected circuits / light up our future [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlights0nata/pseuds/moonlights0nata
Summary: Moving forwards isn't a linear road. Sometimes it gets worse before it gets better.Ryoken sets out to right past wrongs and faces the choices he made along the way. Takeru finds himself seeking him out. What used to tie them together should have been settled but it seems there is still something that keeps them in each other's paths...and maybe that something will be what brings them even closer.Meanwhile, Spectre is left no choice but to face his own reality: no mission left to fulfill, no role left to play. But while he stubbornly rejects the notion, he might just form bonds he never expected to.
Relationships: Homura Takeru & Revolver | Kougami Ryouken, Homura Takeru/Revolver | Kougami Ryouken, Kusanagi Jin & Spectre, Revolver | Kougami Ryouken & Spectre, Spectre & Sugisaki Miyu
Series: connected circuits / light up our future [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926796
Comments: 176
Kudos: 105





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision is made. Takeru sees someone he didn't expect on TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, oh boy it's here. I'm finally starting this fic--i'm super excited for this ! For those who follow me on twitter you might have seen a few of my excited tweets about this :^) AKA the Post Canon TakeRyo Slowburn fic ! Or the fic where Ryoken will have many...MANY feels. And Spectre learns about friendship (?). You will see.
> 
> First chapter is a small prologue. I still don't know how long chapters will be; right now I'm thinking of keeping them short, but knowing me and how easily I ramble, I might not be very consistent on that. 
> 
> Also special thanks to my gf for beta reading this !! ♡♡ u3u And thanks to those I gushed with about this fic already for listening or gushing back !!! 
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Etc always appreciated ♡ I would love to hear what everyone thinks of this fic as it progresses <3 If I do this right there's a lot in store~

The setting sun outside cast warm shadows over SOL Technologies’s conference room; Akira Zaizen sat opposite from Ryoken, hands steepled together and resting on the table. They had been discussing the current matter for days and tonight was the time to see their plan through. Finally, everything could come to a close.

“Kogami-kun. I will ask you one last time. Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Akira’s gaze was almost concerned, but he held himself with an air of professionalism, all business. Given what they were going to do, Ryoken prefered that rather than worry .

“Yes.” Ryoken leaned back on his seat. His subordinates, the Knights and Spectre, sat around him; their faces, like his, revealed nothing, but Spectre’s eyes were burning into him, saying more than words. He wouldn’t stop Ryoken but Spectre was certainly not overjoyed by his choice. The Knights had decided to follow through with this, as they had for some time, but they also disagreed with one decision in particular.

Ryoken’s eyes were unwavering when he met Akira’s. “This is the right thing to do. I will not be able to see it through without your cooperation. Perhaps I should be asking if _you_ are sure, as well.” He crossed his arms. “After all, there is every possibility SOL Technologies will gain a bad reputation, after this…”

Akira shook his head. “I am aware of the consequences. But I believe this will be good for the company in the long run. Those people purposely hid what happened, ten years ago…They should also face retribution.” He nodded, looking sure. “SOL Technologies should come clean about everything so we can continue forwards.”

“Then we have an agreement.” Ryoken shut his eyes in concentration. _This was it._ “I will speak about the Hanoi Project and the Tower of Hanoi, tonight. And then…”   
No turning back. No more hiding.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Takeru sighed, staring at the ceiling from his spot on the bed. His actual bed, back in his hometown; It had been a month since the fight with Ai ended and he had finally come back to stay.

He was glad to be with his Grandparents and Kiku again--he had a lot to catch up with them. Reinstating back in his old school had been the hard part; most everyone remembered him as an antisocial delinquent who had beat more than ten other guys at the riverbank. It was rather surprising to them how different he seemed now: more approachable, friendly even. It took at least a few days for the shock to pass and for him to get to talk more to his other classmates. He was doing his best to get along with the class and having Kiku around helped. At least now she could help him with schoolwork when he got stuck, bless her heart.

He was... _happy_ , for the most part: rising for school, cooking breakfast for him and his Grandparents (something that earned him a smile from his Grandmother, even as she said she could have done it); being surrounded by the familiar scenery, sitting by the pier with the salty sea breeze hitting his hair and talking with Kiku beside him after school; training in his Grandfather’s Dojo again, seeing the pride in his Grandfather’s eyes at his growth (they had even laughed together about something trivial after a training session and Takeru hadn’t know how much he’d _missed that_ until then). He was happy here, he...was.

Despite all that, a part of him missed Den City. He had experienced so much there, good and bad, experiences that let him stand stronger today (or kept him awake at night, even now, Flame’s voice in his mind). He had made friends he treasured, like Aoi, Kusanagi...Yusaku.

 _Yusaku_ , who hadn’t even said goodbye to his face before he suddenly took off . All Takeru had got was a short message and Kusanagi telling him Yusaku was gone already, after he had defeated Ai.

 _‘He’ll come back.’_ Kusanagi had reassured him, even when his smile looked as concerned as Takeru felt. Takeru wanted to believe, in his heart, that Yusaku would surely return; he’d come back stronger than ever. But Takeru couldn’t help but worry, couldn’t help wondering why Yusaku had to go off on his own. Why not let someone, _anyone_ , even if it wasn’t Takeru, go with him. With Ai gone, Takeru could imagine the pain he was in; the need for locking himself away from the rest of them. He just hoped Yusaku remembered he had them to come back to, that he wasn’t alone .

A strange emotion set in Takeru’s chest whenever he thought of Yusaku leaving on his own and not even talking to him. He tried not to think too much about it, though: Yusaku had his reasons. He always did.

Takeru grumbled, shaking his head. His mind was too heavy with thoughts and it was the last thing he needed. He sat up, crawling over to the spot in front of the TV and turned it on. He needed a distraction.

Zapping through channels, he wasn’t finding anything that held his attention. He was about to give it up when he landed on what he assumed was a news channel. What made him do a double take was the the face he saw on TV; his mouth fell open when the man spoke, voice all too familiar.

“My name is Ryoken Kogami.”

Why was he there?

“But most of you know me as Revolver.” _Wait ._ “Leader of the Knights of Hanoi.” He wasn’t— “And I am here tonight to reveal the truth about something that happened ten years ago. A project that my father, Kiyoshi Kogami, former SOL Scientist, lead. It was referred to as the Lost Incident...or Hanoi Project.”

He was. Takeru was frozen on his seat as he listened, in disbelief that Ryoken Kogami was on TV talking about the Lost Incident. Ryoken sat very still, hands steepled on the table before him, as he spoke about the details of the incident.

Managing to look away from Ryoken for two seconds, Takeru noticed Akira standing just to Ryoken’s right and three other people to his left, which Ryoken identified as part of the project and as the Knights, Baira, Faust and Genome. Ryoken spoke about the perpetrators of the incident, the torture of six children to achieve its goal, all in a matter of fact manner. Takeru’s stomach still churned a little.

“I will not speak the names of the victims, to preserve their privacy. But in shedding light on what happened then, I am hoping for it not to repeat itself, and for the victim’s families to know of the truth that was hidden from you. I will make certain this transmission reaches you.”

Ryoken glanced back at Akira, who nodded at him to go on. “SOL Technologies, at the time, covered this incident as to not damage its reputation. I have spoken with Akira Zaizen, current CEO of SOL, and we have come together to make sure the people who hid the truth face retribution for it.”

Akira stepped forwards, eyes meeting the camera. “Those people are being apprehended as we speak. Proof of their actions has been presented to the authorities earlier today. Those people are—”

Takeru watched as the mugshots were presented; the people who had made sure the news didn’t get hold of the Incident, who covered everything up. His blood boiled.

“I am aware this might make many of you see SOL differently.” Akira continued. “But I have hopes with this, the company can come clean about everything and we can start anew, with nothing to hide.”

Takeru was sure this would be a blow for SOL. He didn’t linger on that thought, though, because Ryoken kept going.

“The Tower of Hanoi was my father’s last resort to eradicate his own creation. The Knights of Hanoi were formed for this very purpose. I…” For just a moment, Ryoken seemed to falter, changing the way he gripped his hands. “I committed many crimes for the sake of my father’s ambitions. But they were still my actions, my _choices_ , that caused many people to be hurt. If I had not been stopped, all those people would have been sacrificed.”

“What are you doing, Revolver…?” Takeru muttered, hands curled in fists, shaking on his lap as he sat on the edge of his seat with his eyes glued to the TV. Ryoken wore a careful, cool facade, like he was talking about the weather, but Takeru found himself dreading what he would say next. He was baring everything in the open. Why? If not because he was about to--

“Back then, I was blinded by my loyalty to my father. I believed our actions to be justified. I did not care who I had to harm, who I had to sacrifice, for our goal.” His eyes shut, as if contemplating his words, or perhaps to give himself a moment to breathe. When he opened them again, there was a strong conviction in his gaze.

“But I will not hide from my misdoings. I came tonight to show you who I am, behind the mask. I…along with the rest of the Knights of Hanoi…” He placed a hand to his chest. Takeru’s stomach sank. “...will be handing ourselves over , to pay for our crimes.”

“....What the hell…” Takeru’s fingers curled so tight that they hurt, nails digging into his palms. He slammed his fist on the table in front of him. “What the hell, Revolver?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	2. A new beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New uniform, new place...new people. Spectre is not happy about any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally was gonna post a Ryoken chapter next but I thought Spectre's would be fitting too to continue (and I finished it first too haha). I'm very excite to write his part as well !! He's a character that is trickier for me to write (and I base him on HCS a lot) but I hope I'll do a good job :') 
> 
> Originally, back when I first got the idea for this fic, it was gonna mostly be Ryoken centred but as I kept plotting it, I was like "damn but what about Spectre?". So now they get to share a fic hAHA, thus the fic summary.
> 
> Also another character I love makes a first appearence in this chapter as well~ She's gonna make Spectre's life very interesting, to say the least.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who already left kudos/commented/etc, I'm happy to see people excited for this fic too !!! <3

_There were just a few hours left before the TV transmission when Spectre got to approach Ryoken and speak with him alone. He grabbed Ryoken’s arm, expression far from pleased._

_“Must you really do this, Ryoken-sama?”_

_Ryoken sighed; he looked tired.. ‘Yes, Spectre. It is the right thing to do...so I can lay everything to rest.’_

_“But—”_

_“You will not face the same sentence as me. You were used, all this time. By my father...by me.” Ryoken’s voice lowered at the end but not once did he turn away from him. Spectre shook his head, stepping forwards in defiance._

_“I was not used, I followed you of my own_ _free will.” Ryoken had extended his hand out to him and given him_ ** _purpose_** _. If he had truly been used--Spectre didn’t care. As long as he could be useful to Ryoken, that was all that mattered, if it meant staying beside him._

_“..I appreciate your loyalty all this time, Spectre. But you do not have to follow me anymore.” The words stung, despite Spectre having heard them before. “The Knights are dissolving.”_

_“I am still loyal to_ **_you_ ** _, Ryoken-sama, I…” A pause. Spectre’s grip on Ryoken’s arm tightened then slackened, staring at his feet. Something vulnerable slipped into his tone. “I have nothing else.” What was left for someone like him? Someone who had lived the last ten years of his life as nothing more than a shadow, a ghost, following someone else?_

 _“This is not the end, Spectre.” Ryoken’s hand on his shoulder had always been comforting but it was heavy now. His gaze would have seemed blank to anyone else; there was uncertainty, something almost melancholic in it, even when Ryoken flashed him a small private smile. “I will be back. This...Perhaps it can be a_ **_new start_ ** _for us both.”_

Spectre replayed the conversation over and over in his head, as he watched himself in front of a mirror, tugging annoyingly at the cuffs of his new _school uniform_ ; _Den City High School’s uniform._

After Ryoken’s confession on live television, he and the three Knights had been apprehended and taken to prison. Spectre, while not present during the transmission itself, had been identified as an accomplice already. Given his age, and Ryoken surely putting in a word to ensure it, Spectre had merely been put on probation; however he had been a tough case for the authorities.

For one, he had lived all this time with Faust as his _‘legal guardian’_ on paper but the documents that stated that had been blatantly forged; Spectre had lived in an orphanage as a child before he ran away and was brought to the Knights by Ryoken. There had been no formal procedure to that.

For a tiny moment Spectre had feared he’d be thrown back into an orphanage. He would not have been able to stand it.

That wasn’t what happened in the end. Instead, they placed him in some kind of foster program that gave accommodations to orphaned children. It involved individual accommodation but, since he was still underage, the condition to stay there was that he had to, regrettably, _go to school_. It was their attempt at re-integrating him into society, he assumed, but Spectre wasn’t happy in the least about it. 

_School_ : being surrounded by other people his age, people he didn’t care for, sitting through lectures he didn’t care about. It just sounded terribly dull.

Still, while he waited for Ryoken’s sentence to be complete, he had to sustain himself _somehow_ and this was all he had at the moment. Enduring a boring school life was a far lighter sentence than what Ryoken would be going through: Spectre could handle this. So he reluctantly gave himself another one over in the mirror, at his own unamused face and sighed.

_‘A new start.’_

“Right.” He grabbed his school bag. “This will be disastrous.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

It was no surprised that Spectre secluded himself from his classmates from day one; his introduction to the class had been short and cutting, and when asked for his actual name (“Spectre is not a first name--”), he had ignored the question. He made it very clear he was not here to exchange pleasantries with any of them. A few already looked at him with disdain, but _he didn’t care._ He didn’t care about any of this.

It was only slightly uncomfortable when he bumped into Aoi Zaizen in the halls between classes. Thankfully she wasn’t in his class, but they did lock eyes for a moment. Recognition and surprise flashed in her face and she looked like she was going to say something to him, but he was quick to get out of there.

Just because they were not fighting in Link Vrains anymore didn’t mean they were going to be buddy-buddy in real life. He doubted Aoi wanted that, either, so he actively avoided her and she didn’t seek him out, either. 

As the days passed, school proved to be a truly _monotonous_ thing. Spectre was left on his own, for the most part, and he was content to keep it that way. He went home (as much of a “home” as that tiny apartment he was assigned to could be) when the day ended, made dinner, slept or rather-- _tried to sleep_. It was not rare he woke in the middle of the night on high alert before he remembered where he was. 

Remembering didn’t make anything better. He stared at the ceiling until the sun peeked in through the broken blinds of his room and his alarm rang an hour later. 

He sighed, got up, prepared for school. Rinse and repeat.

It didn’t take long before he found the school’s garden, though, and Spectre immediately made that his spot to spend time between classes.

No one in this god forsaken school was taking care of the plants so Spectre took it up as his duty to do so. By which he meant he _‘politely’_ requested the teacher to let Spectre handle it since it looked as if whoever had been doing it before him didn’t even know how to water a plant properly.

It was a better use of his time during breaks or after school. He didn’t have to talk to anyone like this; he’d always been more content in the presence of nature. Plants didn’t judge or mock: they simply offered their quiet company. 

Most of the plants were dry but not beyond salvation; it’d be hard to bring them back to life but Spectre would rather do that than let them die. At least planning what he’d do with the garden gave him a small motivation to actually come to school. Plants took their time growing, it required patience, and watching them slowly come back to life reminded Spectre _time was passing_ ; one more day, one more week, closer to the end of the year, closer to Ryoken being released. He just had to put up with this for a couple of months and then--

_And then? And then what?_

_Things would return to normal?_

He tried not to dwell on that question too much, knowing what the answer was. He just clung to the idea that Ryoken would be back.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

One day while he was watering the soil, a girl spoke to him.

“Hey, you !”

She was leaning on the window frame that oversaw the potted plants he was tending to; her brown hair fell over one shoulder and her blue eyes watched him curiously while she smiled. He only met her gaze briefly before continuing with what he was doing. He’d been so sure there weren’t any foolish people left that wanted to try talking to him. 

“Hey, hey, don’t ignore me! You are... _Spe-chan_ , from my class, right?”

The nickname, so unexpected and ridiculous, made his eye twitch. He continued to ignore her, but she didn’t give up.

“I can never catch you after class ‘cause you run off on your own.” She paused. “You like gardening?”

“Oh dear, whatever gave _that_ away?” He quipped sarcastically then immediately bit his tongue. He hadn’t meant to reply. The girl laughed.

“I’ve seen you taking care of the plants lately. And I saw you at the shop by the station the other day buying fertilizer.”

“A stalker, are you?” He rolled his eyes, moving to a couple of flowers further away from the window.

“Nope, I just happened to pass by ! But I’m curious about you.” He turned his head slightly; the girl was practically leaning her whole torso out of the window, grinning brightly at him.“I’m Miyu, by the way! Miyu Sugisaki--We are in the same class ! I’m in the seat in front of you.”

“Can’t say I noticed.” He said. Then: “Why are you talking to me, anyways? Wait—” He held up a hand when she was about to answer, lips pulling up in a condescending smirk. “--let me make a guess. You are the overly friendly type that can’t _help_ but take pity on the new kid and wants to make him feel welcome. Well, Sugisaki-san, I would rather you did _not._ ” He scoffed, turning back to the plants. “I did not come here to make _friends_.”

“I don’t _pity_ you.” Miyu said. “I mean, it’s true that when I see a shy kid I want to make him open up—”

“I’m not _shy._ ” Spectre snapped. “I just don’t care about meeting new people.”

“Shy, antisocial, with a stick up his _ass_ —” Miyu waved a hand in the air. “It still applies.” 

Spectre rolled his eyes and finished watering the plants before turning back towards her. She was still looking at him, the smile not once leaving her face. He frowned.

“I do not intend to open up to _you_ , so I suggest you give it up.”

Perhaps it was the way he worded it that caused a new shine to take over Miyu’s expression, something stubborn and defiant. Her grin was almost cat like now.

“Is that a _challenge_ , Spe-chan?”

“ _Don’t call me that_ . And no--” He walked past her to take his leave. He was done with this conversation. “--it was _not_.”

“Well, I’ll take it as one!” She shouted behind him, sounding excited. “See you, Spe-chan!”

Spectre’s eye twitched again but his thoughts didn’t linger on Miyu Sugisaki or why her name rang a distant bell in his head (that was perhaps the oddest thing of all). She could try whatever she wanted; Spectre wasn’t interested in her, or anyone in this school.

In that moment, he had _no idea_ what storm was coming his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been brainstorming Miyu and Spectre interactions these past few days. I am so looking forwards to writing them more :3c
> 
> Also, other notes:
> 
> > I am not sure how realistic Spectre's sentence is. I have been reading on japanese prisons/juvenile facilities/about probation/etc (some comparisons to the american version too, there might me a mix of stuff) and then on how a minor would be treated, then tried to take into consideration the fact Spectre was an accomplice yet also an L.I kid...In the end probation sounded like the most likely ending.  
> >This is a universe were cardgames move the world (lol), so I guess it doesn't have to be 100% realistic but I hope it makes sense at the very least ! Also with the foster care part. I read up on it as well but I am not someone who understands much of law and how these kind of things would work IRL...specially with a case like Spectre's . So I'm trying to keep this as simple as possible but with it at least making some sense in context. I hope ! Let me know what you all think, if you know more than I do, I'd appreciate the input !
> 
> Also, next chapter we will be tuning back in with our local (ex)cyberterrorist ! >:)
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	3. What did I tell you NOT to do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks into his imprisonment, Ryoken is surprised with a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is here ! This was one of the first chs that I drafted when I was coming up with this fic 😂 Tuning back in with Ryoken ! Jeez I wonder who's visiting him hmmm???
> 
> As always comments/ kudos / etc. are appreciated !! I love to read comments truly 🙏💗

Ryoken would be lying through his teeth if he said being in prison didn’t faze him _at all_. Suddenly finding his world reduced to four walls--in a much smaller space than what he was used to, where his every move was monitored and with specific times to do just about anything--threw him off axis.

He’d have to get used to this; while he would not be facing the long sentence the rest of the Knights would, given their willing participation in the Lost Incident and later aiding Ryoken with the Tower of Hanoi, he would be spending a couple months here. Six, to be exact: how ironically _fitting_ was that? 

Ryoken had been surprised at first by the short sentence. He had, after all, been the _leader_ of the Knights of Hanoi, the one that pressed the trigger when it came to activating the Tower. His father might have planted the seed but Ryoken hadn’t stopped him; his choices almost sacrificed hundreds of people.

Perhaps they had considered that he had been a young teenager when it all began, or that while he might have almost destroyed the network, he also helped saving it later. Perhaps Akira had even put in a good word for him, though Ryoken would have considered it unnecessary.

The months that followed would be long ones. He wasn’t unused to being on his own but he’d grown used to having one of the Knights or Spectre at his side. _Spectre_ . Ryoken wondered how he was dealing with _everything_. Spectre wouldn’t be put behind bars like Ryoken was but it bothered him that he couldn’t find out what was going on with him. They had been by each other’s sides ever since Ryoken had found him back at the facility years ago. It was strange to be apart.

But maybe--maybe it’d be a good thing, in the long run. Maybe this way, Spectre could finally move forwards as well, from the Knights, from him. There were no more plans, The Knights had dissolved and Ryoken was no longer a leader. Spectre’s loyalty had always been one of his brightest traits but there was no reason for him to keep _following_ Ryoken anymore. Spectre could chase something that was his own.

That thought, somehow, was incredibly lonely and Ryoken brushed it away.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

The first week of Ryoken’s imprisonment dragged on, with nothing too worthy of notice. The rules were strict and he fell into a routine following the prison’s schedule: he had a free time slot so, if he was allowed, he read, he ate when they told him to (the food was decent), he slept (or tried to) when he had to. 

Bathing was the absolute _worst_ , though: they were _communal baths_ and Ryoken instantly missed the privacy of his own bathroom. All he could do was set his jaw and bear it.

He’d chosen _this_ . He’d get used it, he _would_.

Despite occasionally sharing space for eating or bathing, most of the time Ryoken was alone; alone with his thoughts, trying to entertain himself with a book or planning duel monster strategies in his head. He missed his deck, shuffling through it, but he knew every card by memory and could imagine plays with ease. 

However, that got dull quickly as well. There were only so many strategies he could imagine, only so many times he could replay past duels in his memory to figure out what he should and shouldn’t have done. Remembering certain duels threatened on taking his thoughts down roads he didn’t want to turn towards. 

Another week passed by before, to his immediate surprise, one of the guards told him he had a visitor. Ryoken had no idea who it could be: unless Yusaku had come back after he vanished without a word, Ryoken couldn’t imagine who would _want_ to come see him.

He entered the visiting room and, of all people, met Takeru’s lilac gaze on the other side of the glass window. Ryoken sat down on the chair in front of it, eyes wide, taking in Takeru’s appearance; glasses a bit crooked, his hair a bit ruffled, wearing a tracksuit Ryoken was unfamiliar with. Most notable of all, he was _scowling exasperatedly_ at him. Now _that_ Ryoken was more familiar with.

Takeru unhooked the phone from the wall on his end and held it up to his ear. After a pause, Ryoken mimicked him. The first words out of Takeru’s mouth weren’t that surprising.

“What did I tell you _NOT_ to do?”

Ryoken’s lip pulled down in a grimace. “...Hand myself over?”

“And what did you _DO_?”

Ryoken sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone. “Homura, understand--I _had_ to do this.”

Takeru sank on the hard, metal chair, huffing irritably. He was clearly pissed, angry, but seeing the defeated slump to Ryoken’s shoulders seemed to be softening him a little.

“You reveal the truth about the Incident, you hand yourself over--” Takeru squinted, as if trying to read into Ryoken’s intentions. “Do you think this fixes _anything_?”

“No.” Ryoken replied quickly. He knew this was coming. “I did not reveal the truth hoping to _fix things_. I did it because it has been hidden in darkness for too long. It was the right thing to do.”

“Then why _this_ .” Takeru insisted. “Are you trying to _pay for it,_ too?”

“No...I am not trying to make up for my father’s mistakes, here.” Ryoken shut his eyes and took in a small breath. “I am paying for my own. Because the people I hurt also _deserve_ the truth.” His gaze was more steady when he met Takeru’s eyes again. 

“I will not cover my actions with lies. I know _this_ is not enough retribution, for the damage I caused. This is not true atonement, despite my words the other day.” He said. “I do not expect forgiveness after this or for my actions to be forgotten.” But this was what he deserved.

“...What about the promise you made me?” 

_‘You must keep watching over the network.’_

_‘You have to remember forever.’_

Ryoken hadn’t forgotten Soulburner’s, Takeru’s words, 

“I left Pandor in charge of overseeing the network, for the time being.” The AI had had a choice in it; her role had been over but she chose to stay beside him and assist him.

_I shall wait for your return, Revolver-sama.’_

Leaving an AI in charge would have been unthinkable to him before; how the tides changed. 

“I plan to see that promise through myself, once I am out of here. At least...” _‘At least I have something to do looking forwards’_ he didn’t say, pressing his lips together. Before, he hadn’t thought of the future, of having anything to do after he finished his sentence. Because he had nothing left; his mission was over.

Perhaps Takeru had given him a small reason to continue forwards.

“I will not forget, Homura.” Ryoken’s words became softer. “In revealing the truth...I am not freeing myself from that weight. I am making sure more people know of what happened, that they remember as well. Remember, and remind me if necessary.” Ryoken’s eyes held that same conviction they did when he spoke on TV. “I will not _allow_ myself to forget. For you, for all those children.” This was something he would always carry. 

Takeru stared at him, a new shine in them Ryoken couldn’t put a name to. Understanding, maybe, or something else. His lips parted. “You are…” He trailed off and closed his mouth. Takeru sighed before he gazed down at the table, fingers fidgeting over the surface.

“Well...I thought it was pretty brave, too.”

Ryoken blinked. Takeru scratched his cheek, his irritation diffusing.

“It takes guts to reveal that on live television. You and Zaizen put all that together and even caught the guys who covered everything up…Frankly--” He gripped the phone a little tighter. “--I was pretty glad to hear _those people_ are paying for it.”

“It was not hard to find them.” Not with Ryoken’s knowledge and with someone within SOL to help him. He had gained respect for Akira; many would have feared their company crumbling after revealing such a heavy truth, but Akira was willing to deal with the downfall of it, despite the risks. 

There was a pause before Ryoken leant on his elbow, chin propped up on his hand. He eyed Takeru curiously. “But I must admit, Homura...I did not expect a visit from _you_. I was prepared for this sentence to be a truly uneventful procedure...” His lips curled in a small smirk. “Was your need to scold me that strong that you came all the way from your hometown to seek me?”

“That’s--” Takeru rose a hand, ready to argue, but he lowered it just as quickly. He averted his gaze, seemingly embarrassed. “I was visiting Kusanagi-san, too so--so I came to check up on _you,_ too.” He looked around as if he was expecting someone else to appear. “I bet Spectre is already visiting you plenty, though.”

“No, he is not. He can’t.” At Takeru confused gaze, Ryoken amended. “He is on probation. He is not allowed to make visits to prisoners, nor contact them, as far as I know. Given he worked alongside me, it makes sense to keep us apart, as well.” Spectre would have very much tried to break him out, if he could have, but Ryoken trusted he would not attempt such a thing now.

“Oh.” Takeru said. “So...I’m the first visit you got?” Ryoken nodded. Takeru hummed, looking as if he was thinking of something. Before he could voice it, though, the guard approached him.

“Visit time is over.”

“Shoot. I--” Takeru eyes hesitated between the guard and Ryoken before his words tumbled out in a rush. “Is it okay if I--hey!” 

“Visit time is _over_.” The guard on Ryoken’s side wasn’t a patient man and forced him to stand, the phone falling from Ryoken’s grip. The guard on Takeru’s side was urging him away as well, despite Takeru’s insistence that he was just about to leave. 

Their eyes locked for a brief moment, something stubborn and defiant in Takeru’s gaze. He said something else that Ryoken couldn’t catch before being directed away by the guard out of the room.

Back in his cell he wondered what it was that Takeru had wanted to say, but maybe it didn’t matter. He didn’t think he would see Takeru again very soon.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

“Oh? Takeru!” Kusanagi beamed at him when he approached the truck, waving his tweezers in the air. “Didn’t expect to see you today !”

“I wasn’t planning to visit so soon but, well--” He scratched the back of his head. “I guess I missed hanging around here.” He smiled. “No one makes hot dogs like you, Kusanagi-san.” 

“You got that right !” Kusanagi laughed, flipping a couple of sausages on the grill. “How have you been? How are your Grandparents?”

They conversed for a while, catching up on the little things: Takeru told him about his Grandparents and Kiku, about his school and Kusanagi spoke of Jin, how he was going to Den City Highschool and helping out at Cafe Nagi now. Takeru was happy for them both; after everything they had had to suffer through, they could finally be together and at peace. 

“I haven’t heard anything from Yusaku yet, though.” Kusanagi said, eventually, making Takeru jump. Kusanagi wore a knowing expression. “You came to visit for that, right?”

Takeru swallowed. He hadn’t come here _just_ for that, even if he held hopes they’d get news eventually. He had a feeling Yusaku wouldn’t come back in a matter of days, wherever he was.

“It’s okay.” Kusanagi shook his head. “I know you are worried. I am too.” He stared down at the grill. “But we have to trust him. He’ll come back.”

“...Yeah. I know.” Takeru leant his back against the counter, watching the plaza where the truck had stopped by. There were a few passerbys, alone, in pairs or with their pets; children laughing and fragments of conversations filled the air. Things were peaceful. “I didn’t visit just for that though.”

“Ah, so you really missed me that much, huh?” Kusanagi half joked, tone light. It was silent before he asked, more tentatively. “...Is it Revolver?”

“...You saw that transmission, didn’t you?” Takeru frowned, holding his hands together in his lap. “He really handed himself over, like he originally planned.”

“It was a shock, if I’m honest. He revealed everything.” Kusanagi sighed, a conflicted look crossing his face. “And Jin--I know he can’t remember, now, but he was with me when we saw it. I worried...if there was a chance Revolver’s words would make those memories come back. I couldn’t tell if anything felt familiar to him or not, though.”

“...Do you…” _Do you think it’s really alright not to tell him?_ Takeru stopped himself from asking. After the fight with Lightning, Jin had lost his memories of the Incident. He could finally live a happy life, ignorant of all the suffering he had had to endure. The only one that remembered was Kusanagi, who had done everything he could to help his little brother, seeking those that had hurt him. Kusanagi, who had had to see the way the Incident _broke_ Jin.

Takeru couldn’t name how many times he had wished he could just forget it all, bury his past in a box and move forwards, ignoring all the hurt and the pain. But he couldn’t do that: It was all part of him and he had to move forwards carrying those memories, carrying the marks it left on him.

He had told Revolver, after their duel, that he had to remember, for him, for everyone that might forget about the Incident, but the reality was that Takeru would never truly _forget_. He wondered if Jin’s memories, too, were all completely gone.

“Are you going to see him?” Kusanagi asked, suddenly, making Takeru snap out of his thoughts. Takeru let out a small breath, untangling his hands and stuffing them in his pockets.

“...Yeah.” He detached himself from the counter. “I have to confirm something.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

_‘I do not expect forgiveness after this, or for my actions to be forgotten.’_

_‘I will not forget, Homura.’_

_‘I will not allow myself to forget. For you, for all those children.’_

Takeru replayed those words in his mind on the train back home, watching the city fade outside of his window, the sun low on the horizon. Ryoken hadn’t dismissed their promise, in spite of ignoring the part of _not going to prison_. 

But there had been conviction, honesty, in his words. Promise or not promise, Takeru had a feeling Ryoken would never forget, either, about the Incident, about everything. He spoke like someone who was very aware of all that had happened, that was willing to carry it all on his shoulders. 

_‘I did it for myself. That is why I fought for real. To break my own curse.’_

Takeru bumped the side of his head against the window, hands curling into fists.

“... _Bullshit_.” 

Ryoken hadn’t sounded like a man free of his own curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please look at [ this art by Val ](https://twitter.com/Valmey_me/status/1199508387437916160?s=19) I think of it whenever I re-read the dialogue in this chapter AJDNANDNZ 
> 
> Updates might slow down from here on cause I have to outline then properly ! And I also have an exam coming up eugh. But hopefully the wait won't be too long <3
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	4. Persistent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spectre wants neither new friendships nor change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo and happy new year !!!! I had originally hoped to get this chapter and the next before 2020 started but I got stuck writing them. I have been brainstorming so much for this fic though, I am having fun ♡♡
> 
> I would love and appreciate, as this fic progresses, to get feedback on pacing/descriptions/stuff if anyone cans and wants to. As long as it's constructive, critics are welcome ! I have started to pin point certain places where my writing can improve or things that were bothering me about it and I want to grow and get better as I write this fic. So second opinions definitely help!♡
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Etc. always appreciated! <3

Spectre should have predicted this would happen.

“Good morning, Spe-chan!”

Spectre tilted his body to the side, suddenly finding Miyu right next to him on the way up to the school gate. She flashed him a grin too chipper for the early morning.

Spectre scowled and walked faster, intent on ignoring her, but Miyu was having none of that. 

“Hey, it’s rude not to greet someone back !”

“Then I suppose I am a rude person. _Goodbye_.” He beelined for the entrance, up to his shoe locker. Spectre tuned her out when she kept trying to chat him up; he switched out his outdoor shoes for the indoors ones and attempted to escape towards the hall.

Walking away from Miyu wasn’t something he could do, clearly, because she came bouncing back over to him. Spectre’s eye twitched.

“Spe-chaaan, don’t ignore me!”

Miyu went on, to his annoyance, talking about the school, their classmates, some TV programme she watched the night before. Spectre was starting to debate avoiding going to their classroom till the last minute so she couldn’t corner him on his desk.

“Ah, Jin-chan!” Just as fast as she had arrived to Spectre’s side, Miyu zoomed past several other students to reach a boy Spectre _did_ recognize. Jin Kusanagi, currently victim of Miyu’s tackle hug. Jin barely stumbled, though, and patted Miyu’s arm. His reply was inaudible to Spectre over the chatter in the halls; so those two knew each other. Spectre didn’t know Jin was attending this school as well. 

Using this chance, Spectre entered their classroom and walked over to his desk, away from them. Miyu seemed perfectly happy with bothering Jin so he was left on his own, staring out the window. 

The wind ruffled the leaves of the trees outside, and the sky was gray with the promise of rain. The days would only get colder as winter creeped closer, not exactly a favorite of his. He wasn’t sure if the heater even worked in his apartment, and, more importantly, if it snowed it would be bad for the plants. 

Class started as he was musing about ways to protect the plants from the coming snowfalls. He made the mistake of glancing up when Miyu sat in the seat in front of him, their eyes meeting fleetingly. She simply smiled before staring up ahead.

Spectre sighed, but it was too soon to be relieved. At some point in class, a little folded paper bounced on a corner of his desk. It was no mystery who it was from.

He opened it. In bright blue writing, it said:

**‘Want to have lunch together later? :D’**

Spectre crumbled up the paper in a ball and tossed it back to Miyu. 

He received another folded paper in return.

**‘Don’t be a meanie :( At least tell me ‘no’ !!!’**

Spectre sighed and brought his pen down on a free spot in the paper.

 **‘No.’**

And then sent the message back.

Despite the cutting reply, Miyu answered back _._

 **‘Aha! You didn’t ignore me this time ^^. But fiiiine, I’ll leave you by your lonesome, lone wolf.’** ****

Far from being over, another note came.

**‘This class is boring :0 Tell me something funny, Spe-chan!’**

_This girl…_

Against his better judgement, he wrote back:

**‘Your attempts at talking to me.’**

Miyu laughed quietly, though.

**‘So you think I’m funny !! Aww thanks :)’**

**‘No. You are annoying. Stop talking to me.’**

**‘ Ouch, rejection !! :( But I don’t give up easy Spe-chan <3 I think we could be friends.’**

**‘I don’t.’**

**‘Stubborn >:P We’ll see about that mister !!!’**

He snorted and stopped replying after that. He should be paying attention in class, not indulging her.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Miyu _aside_ , Spectre was thankful that other students rarely bothered him directly, if at all. Rumors about him seemed to be flying left and right (some more tasteless than others) but frankly he didn’t bother with them. People would believe just about anything.

Just because no one confronted him didn’t mean a few didn’t take a more indirect approach to let him know he was _disliked_ ; his shoes being missing from his locker and being found in the trash; someone misplacing the tools he used for gardening; he had even found his school bag hanging from a tree branch one time. 

Was he upset by all this? The better word would be _annoyed_ or _inconvenienced_ but he wasn’t about to rise to these cowardly attempts. Bullies needed validation and Spectre wouldn’t be giving in to them.

However, when he caught a couple of boys in the garden about to trample with the plants, they had officially _crossed a line_.

“And what exactly do _you_ think you are _doing_?” He said, rising his voice. The boys jumped, one frozen about to reach for the flowers. Spectre’s lips curled in an unpleasant grin as he stepped forwards.

“Are you the pathetic lot that have taken a liking to messing with my belongings? I must _applaud_ you, if so--the last hiding spot was quite hard to reach !” 

Without hesitation he pushed the boy closest to the plants away from them, standing in front of the flower pots. 

“However I will not be so tolerant if you try to bring harm to _my_ garden.”

The boy stumbled into another of the students, but they weren’t backing off. The tallest one came up to him, leering down at him.

“One’s gotta take drastic measures when _dirt_ like you don’t get the message.” 

“Oh, dear, I got the message loud and clear already.” Spectre rose his palms up. “I accept that I am quite disliked here. I didn’t come here to make friends, least of all with _coward weed_ like you.” He paused, cupping his chin. “Though I guess even weed has more _value_ than you.”

The boy snarled and made a grab for him. “Don’t get smart with me--” 

“Professor ! They are picking a fight !” A voice Spectre recognized shouted not too far away. It was enough for the trio of boys to panic.

“Shoot, let’s go!” 

They bolted in the opposite direction but not without, to Spectre’s ire, kicking one of the flower pots and tumbling it down. They were too far away to grab them by the collar already. 

“Are you okay?”

He took a deep breath to calm himself. 

He turned, finding Aoi Zaizen standing there, staring blankly at him. Spectre looked over her shoulder, finding no professor in sight, but it was no surprise she had lied about that. 

“I was handling it just fine, _Blue-san_.” The condescending nickname made Aoi frown but he turned away from her. He crouched by the fallen flower pot; It had cracked, dirt spilling out from it, but the plant would be fine in another pot. The sight still made him angry.

“Sure. Handling it by insulting the bullies.” Aoi came to stand next to him, tone sarcastic. “Great strategy, totally wouldn’t end with your nose crooked.”

“Please, Blue-san, do you think I cannot handle a couple of mindless little beasts?” Spectre rolled his eyes. He stood again, moving to the toolshed a couple paces away. “You underestimate me.”

Aoi followed him. “We are not in Link Vrains. Are you telling me you would have fought back against three other boys?”

From the shed he grabbed gardening gloves, sliping them on, a gardening trowel and an old but functional pot. He walked back out and past Aoi as he answered her. “I know where to aim.” 

Aoi groaned. “You could get _expelled_ for that.”

“And why did you not say that earlier?” Spectre flashed her a fake, joyous grin over his shoulder as he set things down. “I am just about _done_ with the high school student experience. I would have gouged a couple eyes out already to get out.”

“I figured.” Aoi wasn’t amused by his humor. “Why are you here then?” 

Spectre shrugged, lips pulling into a more annoyed grimace. “You could say this is the punishment for my crimes.” He moved back to the shed shortly to lift a bag of gardening soil. Seeing Aoi still there, he continued, rolling his eyes.

“They could not condemn me to jail so they are trying to bring me back to the sheep herd again.”

“I would say this is little punishment, then.”

Spectre chuckled. “Ah, ah, do you still hold resentment over me from the good, Tower of Hanoi days?” He spoke with no remorse, only mockery. He set down the bag of soil. “Please, Blue-san, I am a changed man.”

“...No, you’re not.” When he spared her another glance, she was looking at him with something like--pity, or disdain, he couldn’t say. Her next words didn’t help. “Revolver changed. You haven’t changed one bit, Spectre.”

“Do not speak--” He took a menacing step forward, glowering. “--as if you know me, or Ryoken-sama.”

Aoi held his gaze. “...You are right. I don’t know either of you that well. And as far as _you_ are concerned, I don’t think I want to.” She stepped back, half turning to leave. “But even I can see Revolver isn’t the same man that terrorized the network back then. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.” She spared him one last, cold look. “I don’t feel the least sorry for you, though. I really don’t get what Miyu-chan sees in you.”

Spectre didn’t get it either. He wordlessly let her leave and turned back to the fallen plant, focusing on getting its new pot ready. 

Aoi’s opinion on him mattered little, really, yet her words rang in his head without consent.

_‘Revolver changed. You haven’t changed one bit, Spectre.’_

Spectre dug the gardening trowel in the new soil, lips pressing together. _Why should he change?_ The world hadn’t given him a reason to change, to be a better person. 

He scooped the fallen flower and gently and meticulously transplanted it to its new home. He brushed the Pansy’s delicate violet petals, observing it; he would never hear a word of appreciation from it for taking care of it, but in its quiet presence Spectre already felt more at ease, appreciated, needed. In their own, wordless ways, plants offered him a comfort people never would.

People hadn’t made him better--all except Ryoken. Ryoken, who had extended his hand to him, who had given him purpose. He was the only person Spectre held any appreciation for, the only one Spectre would endure this dull school life for until he could see him again.

The year would soon be over, and with that it would be one less month that he had to wait for Ryoken’s return. 

That was all Spectre cared about.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Miyu kept her initial promise, to the letter: any chance she had to engage him in conversation, she took. Spectre, luckily, was rather skilled when it came to disappearing unnoticed so he evaded her by getting lost in the sea of students in the hall or pretending to go one way and going the other. Miyu took this all as a game, though, and didn’t discourage her from seeking him out.

On occasion, she still bothered him while he was gardening. It was when she was most tolerable, only making a comment or two. 

“What’s that one called?” She asked one day. Spectre followed her finger pointing to a group of yellow flowers.

“...Sternbergia.” He replied, after a moment of silence, and she hummed.

“They are pretty. You really brought them back to life.”

She seemed strangely content crossing her arms over the window frame and watching the flowers. She kept asking about the names of others and Spectre replied in monosyllables. It didn’t deter her.

“What will you do in winter? Don’t flowers die when it snows?”

“Some flowers still bloom in winter. But I have to find something to cover them from the snow.” He bit his tongue a moment later. He should stop engaging her. 

After school he was (mostly) safe, since she was usually with Jin or, as Spectre learned, with Aoi as well. Even when Miyu tried to get him to join them, Spectre left too quickly to answer. 

Spectre didn’t understand. Why was she so insistent? Was this all really just some fun challenge for her, was there anything in it for her if she got him to open up? He couldn’t fathom why she was still trying so hard, why she showed interest in him. She had friends or classmates to bother already, so what would she gain from any of this except Spectre’s irritation?

This situation repeated itself for about a week before, much like a kettle full of water, Spectre’s patience reached a boiling point. In the middle of one of her ramblings, he rounded on her, cutting her off.

“You are _insufferable_ .” Chatter around the hall died down when he snapped. “Stop _following_ me around, stop _talking_ to me, I want _nothing_ to do with you.” His words were stressed with a gesture of finality. “I cannot stand your _incessant_ talking. Go bother someone else and _leave me alone._ ”

Other student’s eyes were fixed on them but he didn’t stay to wait for Miyu’s answer or see her reaction. He turned on his heel and entered the classroom, fuming, and sunk on his chair. 

That should be enough, right?

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

“Miyu-chan.” Aoi patted her friend’s shoulder and Miyu jumped. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She tilted her head back. Her smile was as sunny as always and Aoi wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to do that. “Ah, did you see that outburst just now? Spe-chan can actually be _intense_!”

“Miyu-chan…” Aoi sighed. “You should leave him be. He’s…” _He’s not a good person._ He had helped during the fight with Lightning, during the fight with Ai, but Aoi hadn’t forgotten their duel during the Tower of Hanoi. He wasn’t any different from back then. There was not even a drop of regret in him.

“He really, really doesn’t like me, huh?” Miyu chuckled. It was unclear whether Spectre’s words had bothered her or not. She was hard to read. “Maybe I was too forceful.” She crossed her arms, making a thoughtful sound, then nodded. “With an injured animal, you have to be more gentle.”

“Injured...animal?” Aoi almost laughed at that. Spectre was an animal to Miyu?

“He’s hurt, I’m sure.” Miyu’s tone changed then. “Someone who acts that way with others, pushing them away... secluding himself…” Her smile held an understanding Aoi was surprised to see. “Isn’t he like a little scared animal?”

“...Even if he is, it’s not your job to help him.” _He’ll just laugh in your face._

“I know.” Miyu’s smile turned bright again. “That’s not what I’m trying to do here ! I just want to be his friend--and I like a challenge !”

Aoi sighed but smiled faintly. “That sounds like you, Miyu-chan.” That same girl that had reached out for Aoi all those years ago in the playground, bright, easily drawing people in. Aoi had her reservations of the same technique working on Spectre and she wasn’t exactly _thrilled_ about her friend getting closer to him...but once Miyu locked on a target, she was _unstoppable_. 

Spectre was a fool if he thought it would end here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	5. Visiting Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year comes to an end. Takeru visits Ryoken again...and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I thought this chapter is as good as any to make a little timeline aclaration or what I am basing it off:
> 
> >Before Takeru leaves his hometown in S2, Kiku says something like “summer vacation starts in 3 days”. High School would re-start around the first days of September in Japan and that would be the new term. That’s when Takeru goes to Den-City/joins Yusaku’s school. We don’t know how long the fight with Lightning lasts but from when it ends to the start of Ai’s arc, a month passes (I think). If S2 happened all through September, or half of it, it’d be the end of October/First days of November when S3 starts. We also don’t know how long that lasts.
> 
> >VRAINS HAS NO SEASONS CHANGE BUT LET’S SAY IT IS NOT WINTER YET WHEN IT ENDS, since we see no snow/no one wearing a freaking scarf. Still autumn (there’s rain in the opening so autumn rain?)
> 
> >So Ai’s arc ends probably sometime in November. Yusaku leaves.
> 
> >For this fic’s sake let's say Ryoken does the whole ‘going to jail’ thing around mid/last few days of November. Takeru comes back from his hometown once before the holidays to visit and we continue from there.
> 
> I hope all of that makes sense !! And that I got the few time cues the show gives right kjasdsa
> 
> As always, comments/Kudos/Etc. very much appreciated!! <33

The holidays came and went without fanfare. They were practically another day in prison and if Ryoken hadn’t been mentally keeping track of the day, he wouldn’t have known they approached. It was getting harder, though, to know what time or day it was when he didn’t have access to a clock or a calendar. It wouldn’t be long before time would feel completely non-existent. 

Christmas and New years had meant something, when Ryoken was younger, but after the Lost Incident they had gradually become another day. Passing by the glowing lights and the presents in shop windows no longer made him feel that childlike wonder, being crushed under the reminder that he had no time for frivolities. 

New Years Eve was a little different. Since his father didn’t have the habit of visiting the Shrine, he had never really partaken in it; none of the Knights made it an habit either, but they found a way to end up at his house somehow on that day, the first few years after his Father had been taken away.

When everyone would cheer for a new year, as the clock struck twelve, the Knights and Spectre would say something else first.

_‘Happy Birthday, Ryoken-sama.’_

His birthday had never been a date of much importance to him, but Kyoko bought him that same, round blueberry cake he loved as a kid. For just that night, no one called him **Revolver**. He was just Ryoken, turning nine after his father had been taken away, choking back tears; turning eleven, twelve, with his mission soon to be decided for him; and now turning nineteen in a cold prison cell, all on his own.

Ryoken heaved a sigh, shivering, and pulled the covers tightly around himself to shield off the cold. He battled away the strange, lonely feeling in his chest. It was just another day, another night, like many to come until he was out of here. Even when he got out, the Knights would remain in prison for _far_ more time. 

_Get used to it._

He closed his eyes and begged sleep to take him. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

A few days into January (the fifth or the sixth, he was starting to grow unsure), Ryoken was notified of a visitor, again. It still took him by surprise to see Takeru when he sat down in front of the glass. Takeru had just been unwinding the scarf from around his neck when Ryoken arrived, his nose a little red from the cold.

“Yo.” He greeted once he unhooked the phone. Ryoken stared at him, tilting his head.

“I will be honest, I did not expect you to visit me _again_.”

Takeru rubbed the back of his head. “That’s what I wanted to ask last time. Then I just decided to drop by anyways.” 

“Why?” Ryoken remained puzzled. “You have no obligation to.”

Takeru stared at him like Ryoken was _stupid_ . “I’m here because I _want to_. I thought, y’know, if I was in prison I’d hate it if no one visited me. So, uh--”

One corner of Ryoken’s mouth pulled up. “Are you _pitying_ me, Homura?”

“No!” Takeru snapped. “Jeez, can’t I just _check up_ on you? If you hate it so much I’ll leave--”

“It is not _that_.” Ryoken hurried to correct himself, rising a hand in pause. He was silent for a beat. “I just do not understand why you would want to see me. But I do not hate it.” He shook his head. “It is rather nice to be able to speak to another human being.”

Takeru grimaced. “I take it prison is not a very social environment, huh?”

“Not particularly. I am not unused to solitude, yet it is different under such a strict and stiff environment.” He shrugged. “I am getting used to it, though.”

“It shouldn’t be something you have to _get used to_.” Takeru mumbled, dropping his cheek on his fist. Was he bothered by it?

Ryoken decided to change the subject. “Well, since you are here, you might as well _entertain_ me for a little while.” 

“I’m not a _party clown_.” 

“Debatable.” The quip earned him a glare from Takeru but before he could bark anything back, Ryoken continued. “I take it you spent your holidays in your hometown?”

“Huh?” Takeru was taken aback by the subject change. “Oh, yeah.” 

Ryoken crossed his legs and leant forwards on the desk. “What did you do for them?”

Takeru looked up to the ceiling as he recalled. “I didn’t do anything on Christmas Eve--my class got together for a party but I didn’t really feel like going. I kind of just dozed off in front of the TV, to be honest. I spent the actual day with my grandparents, a few neighbours ended up coming over too.” He was visibly brightening as he spoke. “It’s a good thing Grandma always makes a ton of food.” He paused, looking back at Ryoken and at his nod of assent, Takeru continued.

He began a retelling of his holidays: sitting through the Kohaku on New Years Eve ("Grandpa _always_ makes us watch it. I can’t get away!"); going to the Shrine the next day, with Kiku (Takeru’s best friend, as he learned) and her family; a few of the gifts he got (the scarf he was wearing being one of them). It was nothing beyond what was expected of holiday celebrations but Ryoken listened intently, watching Takeru’s hand gesture around as he spoke animatedly.

“--and I’m sure Grandpa had too much sake because he always starts _singing_ when he’s a little drunk--” Takeru laughed but then abruptly stopped, cheeks reddening. “--wait, shit, I’ve been going on and on...”

“That’s alright.” Ryoken smiled faintly. “I do not have much to tell you about my holidays, as you can assume. I don’t mind listening about yours.” If anything, it was a good thing to see Takeru so cheerful. He was moving forward, connecting back with his family and friends at home. He deserved that. 

“...What did you do for holidays before?” Takeru asked, eventually.

Ryoken hummed. “We did not do a lot. We never had the habit to go to the Shrine. When I was younger, Kyoko and Aso would spend Christmas with Father and I. I cannot really remember what sorts of presents I got, but I rather liked how the city seemed to glow during the holidays. ” He played with the cord of the phone. “As for New Years… I used to fall asleep through the Kohaku, as well, or Spectre and I sneaked outside for a little bit.”

Aso had always, without fail, tuned in to the Kohaku on TV and Kyoko ended up absorbed in it alongside him. Genome tried speaking over it, pretending he didn’t care much about it, but he was actually keeping tabs on the result. Spectre and Ryoken usually ended up dozing in the middle of it leaning against each other, bored out of their minds. Other times, when the Knights weren’t looking, they scurried out of the room to go up to the roof. Despite the cold, they stayed there talking or looking at the sky in silence for a while. 

The mansion was away from the city, and while there was still some light pollution, the stars could be seen much more clearly. Ryoken never got tired of finding all the visible constellations in the sky, tracing them mentally or with his finger if Spectre asked. Spectre did ask, often, knowing of Ryoken’s fondness for the starry sky, even when Ryoken had told and retold him the story of each constellation about a dozen times. 

When it got too cold to bear, they went back inside, finding the Kohaku still going strong. Despite his boredom, knowing he could be using this time for something else, Ryoken rarely complained. The mansion was a big place for just himself but on that night, the place didn’t feel so big anymore, the Knights and Spectre as company. 

He was hit with a pang of nostalgia as he remembered now, as if all of this had been long ago. It was, in a way. It was something that was over and he wouldn’t get back.

“That tradition did not last long. I did not let it.” Ryoken stared off to a distant point in the wall. “There were more important things to focus on after…”

“After?” Takeru prompted and Ryoken blinked, remembering he was there. 

“After Father returned.” 

Ryoken remembered it all too well; the relief of getting his father back but also the weight that would be placed on his shoulders, too young and guilt ridden to go against his father’s expectations for him. Ryoken hadn’t doubted him, then, he was determined to follow him to the bitter end; to grant his father’s wishes, he had let go of everything else, bit by bit. He became Revolver, leader, cyber-terrorist, but just a piece in the bigger plan. 

“...Hey, how old were you?” Takeru’s question brought him out of his thoughts, again.

“Twelve.” Ryoken let go off the phone cord, fingers drumming on the table instead. “There is not much to tell, after that. You are aware of what followed I believe.”

“Not much, actually.” Takeru leaned back on his chair. “I only know about the Tower of Hanoi from what I saw online. I don’t know about the in between stuff.”

“Oh. I suppose Fujiki did not…”

“ _Yeah_.” Takeru scratched the side of his head, seemingly uncomfortable. “Yusaku didn’t...tell me a lot of things. Like you being the one that reported the Incident in the first place.”

“...I see.” Ryoken sighed. He had expected Yusaku to fill his friend in about what had happened but when he remembered Soulburner’s fury the day they met, it was clear he hadn’t. 

Ryoken kept his tone neutral. “After the Incident, Father was taken away. Three years later he was declared dead. For a long time we believed SOL Technologies had infected him with the virus that put him in a coma however...during the fight with Lightning I learned it had been _him_ that caused it.”

By the way Takeru startled, it was the first time he was hearing this. Ryoken continued. 

“Either way, Father’s conscience lived on in the network. That’s how he came back. Two years later we attacked Cyberse for the first time...and the rest is history.” He rubbed his forehead. “I do not really feel like retelling everything that happened next, again.”

“No, yeah, that’s fine.” Takeru sat forwards, waving a hand around. He looked pensive, eyes fixed on the table. “...There’s a lot I don’t know, huh.”

“I can hardly blame you. I would have expected Fujiki to fill you in to certain details...they are not particularly _private_.” 

“I could have asked _you_ , too. I don’t think I would have exactly listened, even if you had told me.” Takeru shook his head. “But I can do that now.”

“Hoh?” Ryoken rested his cheek on his hand. “Have you grown curious about me, Homura?”

“Are you making fun of me? No, I’m not _curious_. Or...it’s more like…” Takeru’s gaze was earnest when he lifted his head. He opened and closed his mouth hesitating, and in the end he glanced away. “...nevermind.” 

“Now _I_ am the one who is curious.” Ryoken tapped the glass with a finger, lips pulled in a smirk. “Are you _shy_?”

“ _Listen here_ \--”

Before he could elaborate, the guard came to warn them that visit time was almost over. At least it was not the impatient guard from last time, so they weren’t hurrying Ryoken out.

“Guess I’ll see you next time, then.” Takeru said.

 _Next time_. “You have so much free time to visit me?” Ryoken arched an eyebrow in interest. “Are you skipping school, Homura?”

“I’m _not!_ I told you--I’m visiting Kusanagi-san, too, I might as well check on you.” Takeru gave him a slightly exasperated look. “See ya.”

“...See you.”

Takeru put the phone back and a moment after, he was gone. Ryoken watched him go before he was directed back to his cell. He sat there in contemplation, playing back the conversation in his head. 

He had expanded on the events after the incident many times by now, so it wasn’t a particularly new topic. Those memories played and re-played in his mind often, be it in dreams, or in moments where he had too much free time to think, going back to analyze his actions, his choices, over and over again. It left him exhausted but having a prison cell all to himself ensured he had a lot of time to dwell on old memories.

Despite his tiredness, though, he was also left with a lighter feeling. For a change, instead of sinking in his memories, his thoughts tried to paint pictures of Takeru’s holidays; his Grandfather drunkenly singing, Takeru groaning as he was forced to sit through the Kohaku, neighbours and family gathered together for dinner, chatter filling the air.

For a few moments, Ryoken’s mind was filled with brighter colors.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Takeru kept to his word and came back to visit him again…and again. He came every two weeks or so; Ryoken was having a harder time telling what date it was, but Takeru started telling him upon request. It at least gave him an idea of how much time was passing. The way the hours seemed to stretch endlessly while he was alone in his cell was slowly taking its toll on him.

But Takeru’s visits helped. They kept him grounded, gave him something else to think about when he was on his own again, if only for a little while. Takeru was a rather skilled conversationalist, Ryoken discovered; he could jump from one topic to the next and keep Ryoken engaged. He didn’t mind simply listening to Takeru, most of the time, when he told him about the most mundane of things, be it homework, his Grandparents, or the cat he saw in the park that left him with scratches. 

However he wondered how Takeru was able to come visit so often. The question lingered on his mind so, one day, he asked.

Takeru rubbed his nose, averting his gaze.

“I, ah, took up a part-time job. I meant to save up to be able to visit Den City in case…”

“In case Fujiki came back?” A pause. Takeru nodded. “No news from him yet, I assume.”

“No. Nothing yet.” Takeru scoffed. Whenever Yusaku came up as a topic, there was the lingering hope they both carried that he would come back--Yusaku was not one that stayed down forever--but Ryoken could sense Takeru had more thoughts he wasn’t sharing. Ryoken wondered if Yusaku had even told him or the older Kusanagi where he went but then remembered Takeru’s words.

_‘Yusaku didn’t...tell me a lot of things’._

It was more likely Yusaku had vanished without a trace and left them all wondering where he had ran off to. Ryoken could hardly judge given he was prone to do the same.

He decided to steer the conversation to something lighter. “Where are you working?”

“Fish shop.” Takeru scrunched up his nose. “The smell is _terrible_ but I can’t complain. It has a lot of customers and the owner is really nice. Her husband is a fisherman, too, so when he needs a hand I’ve been helping him move the shipment off the boat and stuff.” He rolled his shoulder at that. “It’s pretty tough.”

“I see.” Ryoken said. “Does your high school allow students to have part time jobs, though?”

“Technically no, but a lot of us do anyway.” Takeru shrugged. “Most help out with the family business. I’ve helped Grandpa out with classes before--can count the times with a hand though.”

“Oh?”

Takeru eyebrows knit together. “Yeah. Grandpa is pretty stubborn. Grandma had to tell him to _stay put_ and rest when he wanted to teach classes despite a twisted ankle. Or a cold. Or that one time he hurt his hip.” Takeru sighed with exasperation.

“I see where your stubbornness comes from, then.” Ryoken said lightly.

“Oy, even I’m not _that_ stubborn--” Takeru protested then deflated, scratching his cheek.”--well...I guess I can be sometimes. But you don’t get to tell be about being hard headed.”

“And why is that?”

Takeru jabbed a finger at him, almost bumping the glass. “Because _you_ are super stubborn too.” Ryoken wanted to argue back but Takeru didn’t let him. “No, you are. That’s why you are _here_ now.”

Ryoken fought the urge to groan. “Homura…”

“ _‘Don’t go to prison’_ I said. Next thing I know you are on TV _handing yourself over._ ” Takeru huffed. “Idiot.”

“Why does this matter so much to you?” Ryoken waved hand in the air. “There are reasons as to why I am sitting on this side of the glass. Do not forget, Homura--I was a wanted criminal.” He peered at Takeru with immense curiosity. “And yet you still visit me.” _Why?_

“You haven’t told me to stop.” Takeru said. He fidgeted in his seat. “Still this just--just doesn’t feel right.”

“Why?” This _was_ right. It was what Ryoken deserved. Even if this was merely for the sake of abiding by the law; no matter how much time he spent behind bars, it would not be true atonement for what he did. It would not erase his mistakes, it would not rid him of his guilt. This was simply for appearances, in the end.

“Because…” Takeru trailed off, frowning. “Ugh, _nevermind_.”

Ryoken mused about what Takeru’s real answer would have been, later that night, staring at the mold spots in the ceiling as he laid in bed. He didn’t get why Takeru kept visiting. He didn’t think it was just because he was visiting Kusanagi, as well. Was he keeping an eye on Ryoken? Making sure this wasn’t just some trick? 

If that was the reason, there was no need; Ryoken wasn’t planning anything. 

_But it is only fair, is it not?_ His thoughts whispered and Ryoken agreed. If it had been Yusaku visiting, Ryoken could have thought it was his continuous attempts at proving Ryoken was good or _“saving him”_ , like he had so claimed in their last duel. That was so far away now.

But Takeru was _different._ He had mistrusted Ryoken from the start, not just because of the misunderstandings that had been standing between them. Takeru saw Ryoken with different eyes; his judgement wasn’t clouded with the same hope Yusaku had had for him. Takeru wouldn’t be tricked into thinking that Ryoken was a better person, or that he was trying to erase his mistakes.

Their duel had cleared away the tension and anger that stood between them, had broken the old chains that kept them ankled to the past, but it didn’t erase who they were. It didn’t turn Ryoken into a new person and Takeru knew that. 

Because Takeru saw _Revolver_ , first and foremost. He saw _him_.

Perhaps that was why Ryoken felt at ease talking to Takeru. As long as he continued to be Revolver to Takeru, it would all be fine, in the end. Whatever the true purpose of these visits was didn’t matter. Because once Ryoken was out of here, they would stop, and Takeru would continue moving forwards and Ryoken would…he would…

What would he do?

“...There are three things I have to do when I get out.” He murmured to himself, trying to find comfort in his old habit. He held out a finger for each reason. “One, ensure Spectre is alright. Two, see my promise to Homura through.” And then? “Three…” Three. _Three reasons._ He tried to think of the simplest, most mundane third thing, but nothing stuck. How long would his first reason last? Spectre didn’t have to keep relying on him. He might have already realized he didn’t have to keep following Ryoken.

In the end, he only had his second reason. He curled his fingers and held out only one, his pinky, staring at it. He had Takeru’s promise. 

He closed his eyes, dropping his hand. He was tired, but he had a feeling tonight would only bring him a restless sleep. The habit that had so comforted him was useless now, when he had but a sliver of a path to follow. 

He curled his pinky. One reason. One promise.

Was it enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes my HC bday for Ryoken is Jan 1st....in New Years I rose my glass for him too HAHHASK
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	6. Aloe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miyu persists. Spectre doesn't know why but he also has better things to do. Like doing his homework and meeting a new...study buddy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be done earlier but then I had to rewrite most of it cause I wasn't happy with it WOOPS.  
> This is the most chill chapter overall, I think. Spectre is growing...a little bit. Very slowly. 
> 
> Also I wasn't sure how to name this chapter but 'Aloe' felt fitting for now. And it's not just cause an Aloe plant makes a cameo in this chapter. Metaphors !
> 
> Comments/Kudos/AKJSDLAS's/etc always appreciated !!! <333

Miyu Sugisaki just didn’t know when to give up, did she? 

When classes resumed after the holidays, he thought he wouldn’t hear a peep from her, but it turned out not to be the case. She still greeted him like normal, smiled at him like it was _nothing_ , as if his harsh words from before hadn’t affected her. 

She _did_ stop talking his ear off in the mornings and was actually giving him _space_ (a concept that seemed to be non-existent for her otherwise) but that didn’t mean she stopped approaching him altogether.

“Hey, Spe-chan! Let’s go home together!”

He was really _not_ in the mood for this. It was freezing degrees outside, the wind biting into his face and making the bare branches of trees dance alongside it; a few slippery spots on the ground had made Spectre almost fall twice already; his coat was just barely fighting off the cold, his bare hands stuffed in its pockets and his face buried on the thin scarf around his neck. 

“You don’t live near me, Sugisaki-san.” He said when she settled on his right to walk beside him.

Miyu shook her head. “Nope! But I never go home right away so I might as well accompany you!” She grinned. “Or maybe you can accompany me! Want to go shopping?”

“Hard pass.” Spectre walked faster, snow crunching under his shoes. Miyu followed right after.

“Aw, come on. Don’t you want to get a cute gardening hat? For when you are gardening?” She said. “It’ll make you seem more friendly.” 

“That’s the _last thing_ I want.” He snapped. “I want you and everyone to just _leave me alone_. What do I have to do to get the message through?” 

“Oh, I got the message! I just left it on seen.” Out of the corner of his eye, Spectre had an image of her toothy, cheeky grin. 

“I can’t _stand_ you.” Spectre grunted but it only made Miyu laugh.

“And I think you’re funny, Spe-chan !”

“I _mean it_ , Sugisaki-san.” He rounded on her, raising his voice. Other students walked past them, laughing in pairs or groups, a few glancing at them with curiosity. “You are one of the most persistent, _insufferable_ people I have had the _displeasure_ of meeting. If I could, I would file a restraining order.”

“And I mean it too!” Miyu pouted, puffing up her chest and balancing on her toes to appear taller. “You’re brutally honest about your displeasure. It’s r _efreshing_!”

Spectre snorted, turning on his heel again. “Ah, so it’s like that? You are used to being loved by everyone and now that someone dislikes you, you cannot stand it?”

“That’s not it!” Miyu had to jog a little to catch up to him. The pom-poms in her hat bounced along with the movement. “Do I seem like the type that’s loved by everyone?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’m flattered.”

“I was not _complimenting_ you.” 

“I’m pretty disliked too, though, Spe-chan.” Miyu kicked a small mound of snow along the way. She didn’t seem particularly bothered. “Being this charming is a double-edged sword.”

Spectre rolled his eyes. “ _You_ are the last person I’d call _charming_.” 

“So mean! But see, see, this is why you’re interesting, Spe-chan.” Miyu beamed, pointing her index fingers at him. “You always have a come back ready! It’s funny to banter with you!”

“Well, I am _not_ having _fun._ ” 

“And yet you’re still talking to me !”

“Because you won’t _leave_!” 

“You could ignore me!”

“That doesn’t _work_ on _you_!” Spectre was raising his voice again. This girl irritated him to no end and yet, no matter what he did, she continued to seek him out. No matter how much he tried to, he wasn’t able to tune her out. 

He gave her a positively confounded look. “What do you even _want_ with me?”

“I told you.” Miyu smiled. “I want to be friends.”

“ _Right_. Your self proclaimed challenge.” He hunched his shoulders, shivering and squinting against the wind. “You can stop pretending you genuinely like me.”

“...Is it so strange?” Miyu’s voice softened. Her cheery expression faltered. “That someone might actually like you?”

“I haven’t given you reasons to like me.” If anything, he was certain he had given the whole school plenty of reasons to hate his guts. And that was fine; he would never fit in with them. He wasn’t like them. He knew it; they all knew it.

“You haven’t given me reasons to hate you, either.” She countered with.

“I seem to have done that with half the school, though.”

“Look here--” She sped up her pace to stand in front of him and jabbed a finger at his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “--you are a rude fucker, and act like a loner, but I have a _feeling_ about you.”

“...A feeling.” He arched an incredulous eyebrow at her. 

Miyu poked his chest again, pouting childishly. “It’s a _good_ feeling. Trust me! I’m rarely wrong.”

“Well--” He batted her hand away and walked briskly forwards. “--you are _wrong_. I don’t care about any ‘feelings’ you have. I have no interest in being friends with you, or anyone else.” He crossed his arms tightly. “Now go away.”

“Ugh! Fine!” Miyu shouted behind him. “I’ll let you go, for now.”

Something cold and soft hit the back of Spectre’s head, making him give a startled step forward. A moment after snow trickled down his neck and he craned his head back to glare at Miyu. She merely stuck her tongue at him before running off in the opposite direction. 

He shook his head, brushing off the snow, and continued on his way home. His boots stomped on the ground, crunching with every step.

_‘I want to be friends.’_

“Right.” Spectre exhaled sharply, his breath condensing into white puffs. “As if.”

_‘...Is it so strange? That someone might actually like you?’_

Even when he arrived at his apartment, her words lingered, like a bad reminder. He slapped the heater a little too hard when it didn’t work immediately, teeth gritting.

_‘I have a feeling about you.’_

Annoying. Annoying, annoying, _annoying-_ -that was all Miyu Sugisaki was, another pest. This little game she was playing, Spectre wouldn’t fall for it. He wouldn’t be the looser.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

In any game, you had to know who you were up against. Now, Spectre couldn’t exactly go around hacking for information about Miyu--he couldn’t afford the risk of being caught while on probation--but he was a keen observer of details. He was adept in moving quietly, in watching from the shadows. 

It was hard not to notice Miyu when she was around, mainly because, one, she was loud, her boisterous laughter coming from somewhere down the hall and, two, she made herself noticeable, with big gestures or simply with her attitude. If there was one thing Spectre had to concede, was that she carried herself with pride, unashamedly, standing out in a sea of students.

It just made him want to crush her even more. 

Given that Miyu was easy to spot, it was also easy to observe her. From what little information he was able to collect, she had transferred last year, a few months before Spectre himself had, so she was considerably new to the school as well. Despite that, she was already on friendly terms with people from different classes and clubs, greeting them in the halls or stopping for conversation. She had made herself a likable character very quickly; she’d joined the school’s swimming club, she had mostly decent grades (despite the fact she rarely seemed to pay attention in class) and it was not hard to tell a good portion of the male students had a crush on her.

All in all, she appeared every bit like a normal girl. An overall too boisterous, too friendly girl. With the way she expressed herself so openly, it was hard to imagine she was hiding something, but people, humans, naturally tended to have a double faced nature. Spectre knew this.

Miyu wouldn’t be an exception.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

One day, Miyu came in cradling a small flower pot in her hands.

“How do you take care of this?” She placed it on his desk. “Mama’s co-worker gave it to her but she left me in charge of it, since she’s barely home.”

Spectre stared at the tiny succulent bud growing in the soil. 

“...For one, you didn’t have to bring it _all the way here_ . While it can grow in winter, it’s best if it stays inside your house.” He sighed, pointing to it. “And this is an _Aloe._ It doesn’t need a lot of watering, every two weeks should do, but it does need sun or it’ll stop growing.” 

“I see!” Miyu beamed at him. “Thanks, Spe-chan ! You sure know a lot !”

He scoffed, leaning his chin on his hand. “Just make sure you don’t _kill it_. This is an easy plant to care for. You’d be an idiot if you couldn’t take care of it.”

Miyu huffed. “Not all of us are plant experts ! But I’ll do my best to keep it alive.” She held the pot up to her face, nose almost brushing the Aloe. “Should I talk to it too?”

“I think if you chattered endlessly to it, you would kill it, Sugisaki-san.”

“Hey!” She lifted her eyebrows. “ _You_ talk to the flowers. I heard you muttering to them.”

Spectre turned his head to the side. He was not embarrassed but he hadn’t know she had been around to listen to _that_ . “Talking quietly to them is one thing. _You_ are too _loud_. Any plant would ask to be put out of its misery with you next to it.”

“So I just have to whisper?” She lowered her voice. “Like that? Like sharing a secret?”

Spectre’s eyes shifted back to her. Despite his insults, she was still listening to him. Did nothing faze this girl?

“...Something like that.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Now go away.”

“‘Kay! I’ll leave you alone to your brooding.” She walked backwards, holding up the pot. “I’ll keep you updated on this little guy though!” 

“That won’t be necessary.” He clicked his tongue, gazing away. “And lower that plant before you _drop it.”_

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Miyu continued exchanging notes in class with him, as well. Spectre didn’t miss how she poked at his interests in plants to get him to answer.

**‘The other day, baby Aloe was looking dry but I might have watered it too much T T.’**

**‘Idiot. You’ll kill it.’**

**‘What do I do when I overwater a plant !!! D:’**

**‘Transplant it to dry soil.** **Carefully.** **Mix some sand in, too.’**

**‘I’ll be extra careful !!! >:O Thanks!’**

A few days later she showed him pictures of her effort. 

“See! I didn’t kill it yet !” She triumphantly flashed her phone screen with the re-potted Aloe. The new pot was pink with a flowery pattern.

“Congratulations.” He clapped his hands sarcastically. “You are not completely useless.”

She bowed, followed by a little hand twirl. “Thank you, thank you!” 

One way or another, Spectre was getting used to these interactions, even if he had no intention of accepting her friendship. The rest of the students often turned to look at them, when they heard Miyu’s voice; their gazes were curious, judging, confused. 

It was unwanted attention for Spectre, and he’d already heard a few whispers about them. Spectre was either a “pity case” for cheerful, good hearted Miyu or he was blackmailing her somehow. They were rumors that didn’t really surprise him and that he ignored. Miyu was the one that kept approaching him and he was sure she knew what half the school said. 

Miyu remained a mystery of a person. He could only hope she would get bored of this charade first and she’d bother someone else. 

In the meantime, Spectre had better things to do.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Spectre found his homework assignments didn't make him break a sweat, for the most part. Math and science weren't an issue, not when he had grown next to Ryoken and The Knights. 

Ryoken had been homeschooled since he was little; he had been far ahead on the program, and even with Kogami being only a consciousness in the net, he had got to finish a high school level of education. Spectre learned alongside him, as much as he could, or the Knights made sure he had the knowledge to get by. Which, in their line of work, meant technology and hacking. 

Now that he was in school, though, Spectre had to accept he struggled with English classes. When it came to coding, he’d memorized the words he needed and he’d worked with a eye-friendly interface Ryoken had put together just for him. Ryoken was good at the language and had occasionally taught him a few words and their pronunciation. Other than that, Spectre hadn’t bothered learning anymore and he abhorred reading it. 

While he didn't _care_ about school, he wasn't about to fail a class. He still had some honor.

That's how he found himself in the school library. It was fairly big in size; rows upon rows of bookshelves presented themselves to him as he stepped inside, long tables arranged around the center of the room and smaller ones further back and closer to the high windows. A couple had computers, as well, currently being used. It was blissfully quiet after school hours, with few students around. 

He settled with his electronic tablet and his worksheets on a far away table, alone. With reluctance, he started pouring over the exercises, starting by the few he recognized from class.

However it didn’t take long for him to be squinting and fighting to stay focused. How did he pronounce any of this? Was he reading it right? It couldn’t be _this_ hard. 

He grunted, rubbing between his eyes, shutting them for a moment. This would take him a while.

"...Um..." A hushed, calm voice spoke up and Spectre snapped his head up. Behind the chair opposite him stood Jin, notebooks and pencil case cradled against his chest. He was peering down at Spectre through his bangs, face revealing nothing. "...Do you mind if I sit here?" He pointed to the chair.

"Yes, actually." Spectre raised an eyebrow. He made a grand gesture around the room. "There are plenty of other tables to sit in.”

Jin appeared to scowl despite his brow being covered by his hair. The boy said nothing else and went to sit a couple of tables away, still by the window. Spectre saw him settling in with his notebooks from the corner of his eye and then resumed trying to get to finish at least _one_ exercise.

Least to say he didn’t get a lot done that day. He ended up irritated and frustrated and with a slight headache. For just a second he missed the way Genome used to teach him; he had a way to make things surprisingly easy to understand. 

He tried again the next day. It was a slow going and he didn’t feel he was making progress at all. If it took him two days to finish one exercise sheet, he was never going to catch up.

 _This is ridiculous._ He erased what he’d just sloppily written on the paper with a little too much venom. _English shouldn’t be this complicated. Stupid language._

On the third day, the library was more crowded than usual. Luckily there was still an empty table in a corner by the window. He sighed, already knowing he’d leave just as frustrated as the other two days.

He didn’t know just how much his irritation was showing in his face, but it must have showed enough for someone to ask him.

"...Are you okay?" Jin, who at some point had sat two seats away from him on the same table, broke him off his thoughts. He didn’t speak higher than a whisper but in the silence Spectre heard him loud and clear. 

Jin pointed to his tablet. "Is that for our English class?" He tilted his head. “Do you have trouble with it?”

"No." Spectre replied quickly, then glanced away. He wasn't about to admit it was hard. 

"You had a very scary scowl just now, though. The same one as the last two days." Jin pointed out and Spectre glared at him. Jin didn’t even flinch, pressing a finger between his own eyebrows, behind his hair. “Yeah, like that. You’ll get a wrinkle.”

“So _nice_ of you to tell me.”

There was silence, Spectre growing uncomfortable under Jin’s grey gaze, before Jin spoke again.

"Are you good at Math?"

Spectre was puzzled. "...Yes."

Jin hummed, looking pensive. "I'm having trouble with it." He tapped his notebook. "If you help me, I'll give you a hand with English."

"I don't need your help." Spectre bit out, out of reflex.

"And I could ask someone else." Jin countered. "But _you_ couldn't." He rested his cheek on his fist. His expression stayed perfectly blank and he spoke like he was simply stating a fact. "Since no one likes you. “ He paused, then shrugged. “Well, except Miyu-san. But she's _really_ bad at English."

"I would not ask her, anyways.” He stubbornly turned back to his exercise sheets. "And you don't have to pretend you like me, either. Did Sugisaki-san ask you to?"

"I don't like you." Jin clarified. "You are rude like Miyu-san told me." Again, he paused. "...But I know you are smart. We could use each other."

Spectre's fingers fidgeting with the edges of his sheets stopped at the words. 

"...Convenience, huh?" He lifted his eyes to Jin, trying to find a trick, a ploy in anything he’d said, but Jin stared back impassively. 

“Exactly. So?”

Spectre hated admitting he needed help. But if this was a simple give and take, not out of pity but out of necessity…

"...Alright.” He caved in. “Show me what you need help with."

Jin’s small smile was pleased.

Helping Jin didn't take too long. He was a bit slow connecting the dots but once he got it, he was swift in solving a problem. 

"...You have rounder and bigger handwriting than I thought." Jin noted, as Spectre scribbled some numbers on his page. Spectre stopped, arching an eyebrow at him. "Oddly _cute_.”

Spectre rolled his eyes. "Shut up." He continued writing. He had never paid attention to the way he wrote. He had a vague memory of his writing being sloppy and illegible until Kyoko had taught him again. "It's easier to read this way."

Once they were done, Jin held up his notebook, looking at his finished homework. His mouth twitched up a little. "Your explanations are easy to understand. Thank you, Spectre." He turned to him. "Is Spectre actually _your_ name?”

“ _Yes_.” People loved to ask that question. Spectre waved a hand boredly. "And no thanking necessary, Kusanagi-san.”

“You know my name?” Jin said. Spectre realized his slip up a little too late but then Jin added. “Ah, Miyu-san must have told you.”

“She might have.” Given how much Miyu talked, she had most likely talked about Jin at one point or another.

"Let me help you with English, now."

Spectre swallowed. Right, Jin was giving him a hand too. 

"What part do you struggle with?"

Spectre sighed."...The text."

Jin tilted his head. Spectre tapped his finger to his tablet’s screen. "It's..." This would sound so childish. “It’s not necessarily written the way they are pronounced, for one. I get some letters...mixed up, I’m unsure if I am reading them right. Unless I memorize how the word is written, I usually get it wrong.” 

He waved his worksheet around. “I get a headache trying to read a sentence with this tiny handwriting, too.” 

Jin made an _‘oh’_ face, then poked the side of Spectre’s tablet. “There should be audio books for these texts.” Jin said. “Maybe listening while you read would help you associate words with the sound? And--” He gestured to his worksheet. “--you could rewrite the exercise in your handwriting so it’s easier to read. I can read it out loud to you, if you want.”

“Oh.” Spectre blinked. “...I hadn’t thought of that.”

Jin smiled, a little wider this time, perhaps even amused. “But you didn’t need my help, right?”

Spectre hmphed, drumming his fingers impatiently. “No. But you wouldn’t have needed mine, either.”

“No.” Jin nodded. “But in the end it’s convenient, right?”

“...Maybe so.” Spectre sighed, side eyeing the boy next to him. Maybe Jin Kusanagi was a little interesting. “Now.” He placed the work sheet between them and grabbed a fresh piece of paper. “Make yourself useful.”

“No one taught you please and thank you, did they?” Despite how reserved Jin seemed, he had some sass in him. He scooted his chair closer. “Alright. Let’s begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Jin's characterization: It's entirely headcanon-based, ofc. While I loved to see Jin happy and bright at the end of VRAINS, here he'll retain his long-haired look and his more quiet personality a bit longer. Though...just cause he speaks quietly doesn't mean he talks less often. I made him more talkative than originally planned here but I like it. 
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	7. Let go off your pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoken only grows more stressed during his imprisonment. He is too prideful to accept help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK BABY, I did not abandon this fic ! This chapter was hard to finish and I was stuck on it forever...some things I am still not 100% happy with either. So, like I said before, critics are welcome, I don't want the pacing to feel rushed but I also want the plot to move along !
> 
> Also **SMALL WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER JUST IN CASE** :  
> There's a mention of strangling/choking but it's in a dream. No one is actually getting choked but if that makes you uncomfortable, from where it says 'pointless games' in bold, skip to the second || and continue reading from "Nightmares and restless sleep..."
> 
> >Comments/Kudos/Etc always appreciated ♡ <3

Ryoken did, in fact, have contact with another human being in prison, other than the guards. 

“Hello again.” Doctor Amano greeted him when he closed the door behind him. She gestured to the chair opposite her. “Take a seat.”

Ryoken sat on the rough metal chair and met the hazel eyes of his prison counselor. Yua Amano, as she had introduced herself around the first days of his imprisonment, was a rather young woman, in her late twenties at most, hair pulled up in a complicated, tight bun at the top of her head. She always had a serene and gentle demeanor, contrasting with the environment she worked in. He had an obligatory meeting with her at least once a month.

In spite of how welcoming her aura was, whenever she tried to get him to open up to her, Ryoken was far from cooperative.

“I am perfectly aware of my crimes.” He had said, during their first session. “I do not need to be convinced of the gravity of my actions, nor do I need someone to preach to me about remorse. I handed myself over because I understand all of those things already.”

Despite his challenging attitude, she hadn’t been deterred. “I understand, Kogami-kun. Handing yourself over speaks of your self awareness.” She tapped her pen against her notebook once. “But counselling isn’t merely about the prisoner acknowledging the weight of their crimes. It’s about coping with it and the stress of prison life. It’s about helping you reinstate yourself into society, once you return to it.”

He had been silent at that so she continued. “This first session is meant merely as an introduction. But if you would like to get anything off your chest, you are welcome to do so.”

“No, thank you.”

That first session had been short. The following ones had lasted about an hour but they were useless ones.

“How are you handling your first month here?”

“Fine.”

“Have you experienced any claustrophobic feelings?”

“No.” _A little._

“Do you have anything _particular_ on your mind?”

“Yes: this is a waste of time.”

Any and all her questions, Ryoken deflected with a monosyllable or cutting sentences. When she tried to prod him about his life, she was met with silence. It was clearly frustrating for her, but Ryoken saw little point to these sessions. He was prideful and stubborn and no matter how genuinely tough being in prison was, he refused to cave down. He refused to admit to it. 

“You look tired.” She said, today. “Have you been having a hard time sleeping?”

He merely stared back, arms crossed tightly. He _was_ exhausted and he _was_ having trouble sleeping. His dreams had been less than kind to him these past months, but he couldn’t use concealer to hide the bags under his eyes like he usually would. 

They weren’t entirely unfamiliar dreams, either.

_**||** Yellow, pupil less eyes stared at him. It’s not the first time Ryoken had sat eye to eye with his old avatar. Revolver appeared often in his dreams, like a bad reminder. He didn’t always speak, he didn’t always wear much of an expression, but today he wore a mocking smirk. _

_They sat in a pure white room, with a game of strategy on a table between them. It was a lot like chess but the board pieces were little toy soldiers instead. Ryoken used to want one of those years ago, made of wood, dressed in bright red, like the one from the fairytale. He wasn’t even fond of nuts but when he was small and ate up books like it was breakfast, he fantasized of owning a nutcracker and check if it could come alive._

_Small and without worries. That time lasted so little._

_Ryoken tilted one of the soldiers with his finger, balancing it left and right with boredom._

_“Why toy soldiers?” He said. Revolver chuckled, leaning on the table and picking one up between his thumb and two fingers. He pretended to examine it carefully._

_“ I like them.” He turned back to Ryoken. “I thought you would fancy them, too. You had so many of these.” He placed the toy back on the table, covering its head with his hand. When he removed it, the soldier resembled a hooded member of the Knights of Hanoi. “Like this.”_

_Ryoken’s lip pulled down in a grimace. He stopped fiddling with the toy, whose face had started to look a lot like Aso’s._

_“I am tired of playing this game.”_

_“Then, shall we play something else?” Revolver swept the board to the floor without mercy, the pieces clattering. A few of the soldier’s heads came off, hooded avatars and familiar faces scattering on the white tiles. Ryoken didn’t look at them._

_“No.” Ryoken said. He leaned precariously backwards, on the two back legs of his chair. He tilted his head and glanced at the blindingly bright ceiling. “I do not want to play anymore.”_

_He let himself fall back and the floor swallowed him into darkness. It was like sinking into deep water, letting the current pull him under. It should have been panic inducing, but he was calm. At the very least, here, he didn’t have to keep facing Revolver in **pointless games.**_

_A gloved hand reached out for him, piercing through the darkness, and took a hold of his neck. Ryoken’s breath hitched. Revolver’s yellow eyes stared at him with fury._

_“It is not that_ **_easy_ ** _.”_

_The hand squeezed his neck. Ryoken dug his nails on Revolver’s wrist, trying to pry him off, but it was futile. He heard Revolver laughing with contempt._

_“Did you think you had changed?”_

_‘...’_

_“That when it was all over, you would get a chance to move forwards?”_

_‘...’_

_“You did. You had a tiny speckle of hope you would. That you would step into the same world of light as everyone else.”_

_Revolver was suddenly closer. His smirk had fallen away, face filled with spite. “But that world is not for_ **_you_ ** _.” Ryoken found himself on the ground, gloved hands wrapping around his throat, choking him. He couldn’t breathe. His pulse was too loud in his ears._

_“Never forget me. All you did. You might trick others into believing you have changed but you and I know the truth.” Revolver squeezed his neck. His eyes glowed menacingly. “You are rotten and broken. Like a used toy.” **||**_

“Nightmares and restless sleep are common in these stages.” Doctor Amano said, startling Ryoken out of his thoughts. “Would you like to talk about them?”

“No.”

Her brow pinched and Ryoken felt childish pride at breaking her usually calm expression. 

“Kogami-kun.” She sighed, placing her palms atop her notebook. “From what I know of you and from my own observations, you rely heavily on yourself and won’t admit to weakness. It is no surprise given all that has happened to you. You lost your father, then wanted to grant his last dying wishes...that is a lot of weight for a child to bear.”

“I am _not_ a child.” He snapped, for the first time in front of her.

“You are barely an adult, legally.” She stated calmly. “And you had started engaging in cyber-terrorist activity as a teenager, correct? Everything forced you to grow up quickly and depend on no one. 

But you retain enough morals to know that what you did was _wrong_ . I believe you _want_ to be good.” She held out a hand, a sign of peace. “Let go off your pride and let someone else help you, for a change.”

Ryoken’s eyes flickered between her face and the hand offered to him. He didn’t take it. “I do not need your help. I can handle myself.”

“ _Really_ ?” Her eyes bore into him, as if she could see right through his facade. “Are you handling yourself or _punishing yourself_ , Kogami-kun?” The words struck a chord in him. “Because your behavior resembles that of a guilty person that believes he deserves--”

Ryoken stood with a clatter from the chair, turning sharply for the door.

“We are not done here!” She called out.

Ryoken opened the door, not turning to face her. “ _I_ am done.” He went out and practically slammed the door shut. He was soon approached by a guard who took him back to his cell.

He did not want her getting in his head, prodding around where she didn't belong. This, this whole thing, it _was_ punishment, he was facing the charges he should have faced a year ago. And he was handling it, like he handled everything in his life. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

No matter how monotone prison life grew to be with its repetitive schedule, it was only getting worse. He hated to admit that Doctor Amano had been right in every way when she had spoken of the stress prison caused.

His dreams only seemed to get worse and, occasionally, he found himself too restless to sleep or fighting to stay awake, wanting to avoid another dream. Not like being awake was any better: being alone with his thoughts was dangerous territory. His mind itself was against him and it was unsettling him. He wouldn't be caught using the word frightening, but it had never been like this, never this bad. He had always handled it. Then again, he had always had a next objective, a next thing to work towards to, something to steady him. He had none of those directly available to him now. He only had himself.

He was used to pulling all-nighters but the little rest he was getting was taking a toll on him. He’d blank in the middle of reading something, in the middle of eating. Stomaching food was getting harder, too, finding his appetite to be very small. 

Doctor Amano’s knowing looks did not help. She was persistent, and occasionally Ryoken slipped and admitted something but he shut her out just as quickly. He didn’t understand why she kept trying. 

He didn’t want this, this show of weakness. He felt stifled from every direction...except when Takeru visited.

He was a tiny bright spot in all of this. Takeru talked to him about judo or gym class or learning how to (finally) ride a bike and Ryoken listened. He laughed over some silly anecdote and Ryoken hid half smiles behind his hand. His stories were all mundane, the sort of life Ryoken felt a stranger to, and thus he couldn’t help but be interested. 

“I would _pay_ to see you fall flat on your ass trying to kick a soccer ball.” Takeru said, when Ryoken mentioned he’d never played. Ryoken huffed.

“You would be wasting your money since I do not plan to play. I am not the sport type.” 

“Yeah, I can tell.” Takeru grinned, all teeth. “ _Stick man._ ”

Ryoken was getting used to Takeru’s own brand of teasing. There was rarely a visit where they didn’t go back and forth with quipping remarks, but they felt less and less venomous and more lighthearted. Spectre was equally if not more sarcastic than Ryoken was but they had never had these sorts of playful banter. Ryoken had never had someone like Takeru to argue with. 

It was...fun, _refreshing_. Strange, at times, since he wasn’t fully sure what Takeru’s intentions were to visit him. But Takeru was honest and straightforward: Ryoken couldn’t see through his smiles and find an ulterior motive, at least not a spiteful one. 

It was a good thing, this. A clearing after all the misunderstandings that had stood between them before. 

No good thing could last for so long, though. Ryoken was bound to crush this too. 

“Hey, are you...sleeping?” Takeru gave him a once over. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine.” Ryoken replied, leaning back on his seat with a sigh. _Sit tall_. “The nights get cold, is all. It is a little difficult to sleep, sometimes.”

Takeru didn’t look entirely convinced. “Yeah but you don’t look okay. Are you eating? You are thin already, are they feeding you properly?”

Ryoken scoffed. Takeru sounded like he was fussing over him. “Worried about me, Homura? Sweet of you, but unnecessary.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“I’m _alright._ Stop asking.”

Takeru frowned but reluctantly changed the subject to something else. While Takeru’s visits were a welcome thing, something to tie him back with reality, Ryoken’s sleep deprivation was causing him to lose focus during them. It was evident no matter how much he tried to fight it. Takeru was growing frustrated the more Ryoken denied anything. 

By his third visit after he’d first asked, Takeru had had enough.

“I _am_ worried.” Takeru snapped. “Okay? You look worse every time I visit...” 

“Your concern is not needed.” Ryoken’s fingers curled and uncurled around the phone. “What do you _care_ how I am fairing? I am not plotting anything. No need to check up on me otherwise.” He winced inwardly. He hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

“Huh?” Takeru’s brow pinched. “You think I visit you because I want to make sure you aren’t planning anything? Are you _stupid_?” He was certainly speaking like Ryoken was. It irritated him.

“Why _else_ ? I don’t believe you visit me just because you were _around_ , Homura. I am not naive.”

“Yeah, but you sure are fucking _dumb_ .” Takeru huffed, exasperated. He scratched the edge of the table absentmindedly. “I’m checking up on you ‘cause--’cause I just _want to_ , okay?”

“ _Don’t_ .” Ryoken’s emotions felt like they had no filter, with how mentally and physically exhausted he was. “Don’t--visit me out of something like _pity_.” He had to be a pitiful sight, though, right?

“I told you this wasn’t _pity_! I’m actually giving a crap about you here--”

“ _No_ .” Ryoken’s tone got possessed by something venomous, something he couldn’t control. “Stop visiting me.” _What was he doing?_ This wasn’t what he wanted. 

_‘You don’t want pity. You don’t want help. You don’t want concern...what do you want, then?’_

“ _Huh_?” Takeru blinked, taken aback. “Wait, why--”

“Because I do not want you _caring_ about someone like me.” He was getting close to yelling as he rose from his seat. The guards stood to attention. Whatever look he was wearing, it was enough to make Takeru startled. “Don’t be _deceived_ , Homura. I _deserve_ to be here. ”

“W--Hold on--”

“Don’t be like Fujiki. Don’t think that by coming here you can save me or some bullshit.” Was that what this was even about? Had Ryoken fooled Takeru into thinking that he was somehow worth redeeming?

Takeru shook his head, a frustrated note to his voice. “ _Revolver_ \--”

“You still call me that.” Ryoken chuckled. Wasn’t this whole thing hilarious? “That’s _fair_ .” He slammed a hand against the glass, looking down at Takeru. “Don’t forget _who_ you are talking to.”

The chair clattered to the floor when Takeru stood up, gripping the edge of the desk. “Will you fucking listen to--”

The guard on Ryoken’s side of the glass grabbed Ryoken and dragged him backwards then. The phone cord went taut with tension before the receiver fell from his hand and hit the edge of the table. The guard twisted his arms behind his back painfully but Ryoken barely flinched.

Takeru banged the glass on his side, mouth moving, yelling something. The other guard made a grab for his shoulder as well, trying to pull him back. Takeru and Ryoken stared at each other, Takeru giving Ryoken a look that was equal parts furious as it was confused and frustrated. Ryoken’s gaze was chilly and blank. He turned away as the guard forced him out of the room.

Back on his cell, alone, Takeru’s expression still lingered in his mind. That was a much familiar look on his face. _Anger_. 

“That’s better.” He mumbled, pressing the heel of his palms to his tired eyes. He ignored the phantom grip that had taken over his chest, squeezing until it hurt. “This is easier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sips angst tea] yeah....and this isn't all of it yet but we'll have to wait for the next ryoken chapter <3 don't worry after that there will be lighter times...i hope? 
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	8. We are not friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miyu and Jin learn something new about Spectre; Spectre is convinced they are _weird_. Later that day, he finally gains news about Ryoken too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a bit to figure it out but once I did it was so fun to write it. There's a bit of everything here but it's mostly lighthearted...in comparison to what's going on with our local cyber-dork WOOPS.
> 
> Hope it's as fun to read as it was to write <3
> 
> Comments, Kudos, etc. always appreciated !!! And big thank you to everyone who has read this far, it makes me happy to know people are enjoying this fic 💕

“You squint a lot. Don’t you need glasses?” Jin pointed out while they worked together on their respective assignments in a corner of the library. Somehow this had become routine, during these last few days as per their agreement. Spectre wasn’t sure what to think of it yet.

“This is my natural expression.” He said, squinting at a sentence. Jin shook his head and propped his cheek on a fist.

“Maybe it got stuck that way.” 

Spectre flickered an eraser his way, which bounced on Jin’s hand. “Silence, you. Did you finish that problem?”

“Ah.” Jin blinked at his sheet before grabbing his pencil. “Almost.”

Spectre was starting to see what Jin’s problem was: he was a bit slow, but it’s not that he had an _specific_ problem with math--it was more that he got distracted too easily while doing an exercise. It wasn’t the first time Spectre had to remind him to keep working.

The rustling of paper and the scratching of pencils filled the room, accompanied by the quiet mutters of other students studying together. The library was starting to get considerably more full of students these days: a lot were third years who still had entrance exams due and the rest were either getting a headstart on March’s finals or doing the same as him and Jin. 

“Oh, by the way…” Jin pulled out his phone, tapping on it. “Miyu-san is absent today but she asked me to show you this.”

Jin slid the phone over to him. On the screen, there was a picture of the Aloe plant Miyu had presented him before along with the caption **[LOOK AT BABY ALOE !! I DIDN’T KILL IT YET !!! >:D show spe-chan this, pls <3]**. Spectre could practically hear it in her voice.

“What an idiot.” Spectre snorted despite himself, turning back to his homework with a shrug. “I suppose she’s not _completely_ useless.”

“Miyu-san’s smarter than you think.” Was all Jin retorted. Spectre spared him a glance; Jin was fiddling with his phone, so Spectre jabbed the tip of his pencil on his arm, which almost made Jin drop the device.

“ _Homework,_ Kusanagi-san.”

Jin frowned at him as he rubbed his arm, before pocketing the phone and turning back to his exercises. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

The next day, when Spectre walked into the classroom, there was a group of students gathered in a circle by the seat adjacent to his own. He stole a glimpse at what they were looking at as he made his way around them--but what he saw made him stop. 

On one of their tablets, Ryoken’s face stared back at him; It was a news programe, playing back excerpts of the transmission from three months ago. The people in the programe seemed to be discussing it.

“...the truth about SOL technologies’s involvement in that Incident will surely be a blow for the company won’t it?”

“You heard Akira Zaizen’s words: coming clean to move forward without any more lies. I think in the long run it will be beneficial.”

“But many _will_ distrust SOL now. And who’s to say this isn’t all just for keeping up appearances? What do we _really_ know about SOL’s actions and intentions? For ten years, we had _never_ heard of the Lost Incident. SOL covered it all up--who’s to say they won’t do it again?”

“Revolver knew of the incident as well. And yet, he kept silent as well, all this time.”

Spectre’s eye twitched. He didn’t like the commentary's tone. 

“He helped his own father with his next little project, too. Who knows how many victims we would have had if not for Playmaker!”

“He handed himself to the authorities, though...And let us not forget what Zaizen said in the coverage a few days ago; he aided in saving Link Vrains not once but twice. He spoke highly of Revolver.”

“So you believe him a changed man? I believe it is all pretense. And I would not trust Zaizen’s words; Revolver and him could be working together for something larger. After all, wasn’t Doctor Kogami a SOL scientist? Perhaps Revolver will follow in his footsteps--”

Before he could bring himself to stop, he had slammed the tablet face down on the table. The students all jumped then turned at him with mixed glares of irritation.

“‘Oy, what are you doing?!” One of them lifted up the tablet, checking the screen. It was still intact, without a crack. “What if it broke?!”

“Apologies.” He said, without a hint of remorse. “I merely cannot stand it when people speak as if they understand what they are talking about.”

“Huh? They were making pretty fair points.” A girl shrugged. “If not for Playmaker, a bunch of people would have died in that incident with Hanoi. Playing nice now doesn’t erase any of that.”

“And can we really trust SOL?” Another girl said, more cautiously. “Whenever there’s an incident in Link Vrains, they end up being pretty useless at keeping users safe…”

“Right?”

“I don’t trust that Revolver guy. People don’t just change over a couple of months.” A boy scoffed. “And If he’s working with SOL, he might really be planning to finish what his dad started. Kids aren’t that different from their parents after all--”

“Don’t you _dare_ speak ill of Ryoken-sama.” Spectre snapped, taking a dangerous step forward. 

“Wha--’Ryoken-sama’?” The boy snorted. “You a devoted fan or something? Gross.”

“Now that you say that, there are those right?” The first girl said. “Hanoi followers. After all, Revolver didn’t work alone...And in some forums there are people who support him. Especially now that he revealed his face.”

“A pretty face just makes fools forgive him.”

Spectre’s fists clenched. The girl closer to him flinched at whatever expression she saw on his face, but the boy who’d spoken didn’t pay it any mind. He sauntered up to Spectre.

“Is that it? Well too bad for you, your Ryoken-sama is gone.” He jutted out his chin defiantly. “He’s rotting in jail where he belongs.”

 _That was it_ . In a swift move, Spectre grabbed the boy by his tie and _tugged_. The boy choked, the tie tightening around his neck and digging into his skin. His eyes went wide and desperate, clearly struggling for air; the other students screamed around him. Spectre rose his fist--

“Aaaalright that’s _enough_!” 

One arm under each of his armpits, Miyu was suddenly there, dragging him back. His grip on the student’s tie was still firm, though, and the kid let out a strangled sound.

“Woops! Jin-chan could you--”

Jin appeared, then, with a pair of scissors (when had he got those out?). He cut the tie in two, freeing the boy from Spectre’s choking grip, and the boy fell back against the desk, taking big gulps of air. He looked pale and dizzy.

“Sorry about that.” Jin muttered, exchanging a look between Spectre and the boy. “I don’t think I would have been able to pry him off you otherwise.”

“Let me go.” Spectre struggled in Miyu’s hold. She had a surprisingly firm grasp on him “I’ll kill him--”

“No, no, bad Spe-chan!” Miyu pulled him back, inching away from the students. “Behave !” She smiled at the group of students that had crowded around the boy to check on him. “Soooo, sorry about this !”

Between Miyu dragging him and Jin pushing at his front, they made it out of the classroom. They didn’t stop till they reached a quiet corner under the staircase. 

“If I let you go, promise you won’t gouge my eyes out?” Miyu said.

“No.”

“ _Spe-chan._ ”

She really wasn’t going to let go. But Spectre was still high strung, his anger flaring up. The glare he threw Jin as he stepped up to him didn’t deter him, though.

“You lost your cool, huh.” Jin said.

“Yeah, what was up with that?” Miyu asked. “I caught them saying something about Revolver.”

“They were bad mouthing him.” Spectre hissed out. “They don’t know a thing, they are just mindless and stupid, talking as if they know what Ryoken-sama wanted--”

Miyu and Jin looked at each other over Spectre’s shoulder.

“ _Ryoken-sama_?” Jin said.

“Are you a fan?” Miyu asked.

“If you are going to mock him, I suggest you let me go now.” Spectre warned. “I will hurt you.”

“That’s not it.” Miyu did loosen her grip, though. “Is he that important to you?”

“ _Of course_ he is.” He had no shame in admitting this to anyone. “Ryoken-sama is the only person I wholeheartedly respect. I have devoted myself to him.”

“Why?” 

“He saved me.” Spectre’s tension relaxed slightly. A little fight left him. “He reached out for me and gave me a purpose.”

“...Are you a Knight of Hanoi?”

Miyu was perceptive; definitely smarter than he thought she was, as Jin had said. 

“Formerly one.” He replied. Perhaps admitting to being a former criminal would _finally_ make Miyu leave him alone; there were one or two rumors (albeit, ridiculous ones) circling around about him having led a life of crime. It wouldn’t be lost to Miyu who had contact with a different number of students from all over the school.

“Woah, cool !” Miyu released him fully and moved to stand in front of him. “Are you a hacker then? Can you do a hacker voice?”

Wait. _What?_

“How would a hacker voice be like…?” Jin mused out loud, seemingly equally unperturbed as her. Spectre blinked at them. 

“That...I do not know what you mean by that--”

“You know! When you are all like--” She scowled, deepening her voice. “ _‘I’m in’_ , all serious looking!”

“... _Huh_?” Was this girl for real? “You are awfully calm considering I just admitted to being a former criminal.”

Miyu and Jin exchanged another look. Then she shrugged, smiling sunnily at Spectre. “I really don’t care. Given your age, you're not part of the ones that went around torturing children. You’re just devoted to their leader--it sounds like you care for him a lot.” She tapped her chin. “And y’know, I saw your Ryoken-sama’s transmission when it aired--he seems like a sensible guy. Like someone you could have a long, long talk with.” She paused, something crossing her face that Spectre couldn’t name--then she was smiling again, clapping her hands together. “Hey, maybe you can introduce us when he’s out of jail!”

“Absolutely _no_ _t_.” Spectre’s retort was immediate. “I will not let you bother Ryoken-sama.”

“Aww, c’mon!” Miyu pouted. “A friend of Spe-chan is a friend of mine!”

“We are not friends. Neither you and I nor I with Ryoken-sama.” He shook his head. “Our bond is not so simply defined.”

“Were you his servant?” Jin questioned, moving for the bending machine behind Spectre, tucked in a corner. Spectre’s eye twitched a little, turning to see Jin put money on the machine.

“I _am_ his right hand man.”

“Huuuh….” The buttons beeped as Jin pressed them and three juice boxes fell. When he came up from picking them up, he had the smallest, amused smile on his face. “ _Cute._ Did you call him _‘my liege’_ at one point or another?”

Spectre humphed and puffed his chest. “I don’t expect you to understand--” His sentence was cut short when Jin tossed one of the juices at him, which he caught with a small fumble. Miyu caught hers with a little more grace.

“Thanks Jin-chan!”

“What’s this for?” Spectre examined his: orange flavored. Not particularly his favorite. “Ew.”

“You don’t like that one? Trade me!” Miyu snatched his and handed him hers in a flash. This one was apple flavored--not as bad.

“Again. Why this?”

Jin stabbed his juice with the straw and took a long sip of it, staring at Spectre. Then he mumbled. “Peace offering.”

Spectre stared at the juice box and arched an eyebrow. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Actually--” Miyu said as she copied Jin. “--Jin-chan and I had a running bet about you.” She moved lean against the wall next to the staircase. “Y’know, you being a criminal was a rumor that floated around a lot. Apparently someone overheard a teacher talking about it.”

As expected, she had heard about it--Spectre hadn’t known that’s how the rumor had originated, however. Miyu took a sip of juice and then continued on, pointing her straw at him.

“I bet you were some kind of ninja-spy-working for an underground criminal organization. Maybe hid a body or two.” She pointed at Jin. “Jin-chan thought bigger and said you were a mafia runaway under a fake name to protect yourself. Probably used to kill people with poison, he said.” She giggled. “It was a cool theory!”

“So this--” Spectre waved the juice box. “--is a peace offering for...that?”

“...I mean…” Jin shrugged his shoulders. “...I feel kind of bad. Cyber-terrorism and killing in cold blood are pretty far apart.”

“It was all in good fun though!” Miyu clarified. Spectre flickered his gaze between them.

These two were absolutely _ridiculous_ . They didn’t care he was a former criminal because they had both pictured something worse--and improbable. Or maybe they were just _stupid._ That sounded more likely.

Spectre laughed, abruptly, slapping a hand over his eyes. _Utterly and completely ridiculous._

“Oh my god--” Miyu gasped. “He laughed!”

“That’s creepy.” Jin deadpanned.

His laughter died as quickly as it had spawned but a crooked smirk remained in place. “You don’t get to call me creepy--you both are _weird_.”

“Aww, do I hear a hint of fondness in that tone?” Miyu cooed, sliding up to his side and batting her eyelashes at him. “Have you started to like us--”

“No way in hell.” Spectre shoved her face away. Just then the bell rung, signaling the start of class, so Miyu jumped back easily.

“Oh, c’mon, we’ll get scolded if we’re late !” She practically slurped the rest of her juice in one go and aimed the box at a trash can without looking. She missed entirely but she was already hurrying off down the hall.

“Miyu-san don’t litter.” Jin was still calmly sipping his own juice, bending down to toss the empty box before following after her at a slower pace. Reluctantly, Spectre did the same, watching their backs.

“...Weirdos.” 

His juice box stayed in his bag all through class; it was lukewarm at best by time he drank it later. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

The library was overly crowded after school that day.

Spectre, Jin and Miyu (who had tagged along when she heard Spectre was good at math, much to his annoyance) stared over at the full tables.

“...Should we postpone our study session?” Spectre said.

“Noooo--” Miyu whined. “Exams are soon! I’ll fail at this rate!”

“I wasn’t talking to you. You weren’t even _invited_.”

“Spe-chaaaan, c’mon!” Miyu put her hands together. “I would usually ask Aoi-chan ‘cause she’s super smart but she’s busy after school !”

“We could go to Cafe Nagi.” Jin pipped in. “Nii-san has no indoor tables but usually doesn’t have many customers, and it’s not too cold outside today.”

Spectre pursed his lip. He wasn’t sure how he felt about studying with the older Kusanagi around--he would recognize him, no doubt. 

“And he might give us free coffee.” Jin added.

“Oh, good.” Spectre sighed in mock relief and pointed a thumb at Miyu. “I will need it if I have to deal with her.”

“Hey!” Miyu jabbed him with an elbow, which he avoided. “But that means you are okay with me joining you guys!”

“I didn’t say--”

“It’s decided, then.” Jin interrupted, turning on his heel. “Come on.”

“Let’s go, Spe-chan!” Miyu grabbed his arm and dragged him forwards. Spectre grunted, snatching his arm back, but found himself following after them.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

The hot dog truck had parked by a spot Spectre was familiar with, by the wide screens in the heart of Den City that displayed images of Link Vrains. While there were people around, like Jin had said, the cafe itself didn’t have a lot of customers at the moment, tables and chairs arranged neatly in front of the truck.

“Ah, Jin !” Kusanagi bent his torso out of the hot dog truck, waving an arm at his little brother. “Miyu! And--” It was comical how his eyes widened and he did a double take when he spotted Spectre. “Spectre?”

“I was dragged here.” He said as a form of greeting.

“He’s helping us with math.” Jin corrected. “We’re studying here today.”

“Nagi-chiii !” Miyu bounced over with and air of familiarity. “Give us free coffee !”

There was someone else around, leaning on the far end of the counter. While the other three chattered, Spectre turned towards them--

“Ah.” Spectre locked gazes with Takeru. Takeru blinked, looking equally surprised to see him. 

“Uh.” Takeru paused, too long not to be awkward. Spectre decided to make the choice for both of them and save them from the uncomfortable moment; he veered away towards a free table. Miyu joined him shortly after.

“You know Take-chan?” Miyu asked. “He was staring after you.”

“...Not much.” He replied, vaguely. “Do _you_?”

“Yep! He’s here sometimes when Jin-chan and I come over. Apparently he comes all the way from his hometown to pay Nagi-chi a visit !”

Was there someone that Miyu did not give a god-awful nickname? Spectre shook his head, placing his things down. Jin joined them after a moment with three mugs of coffee and they all settled in to study. 

Least to say that having Miyu in a study session brought him only growing irritation.

“That is not how you use that formula, Sugisaki-san.”

“Eeeeh, but isn’t this how the teacher did it?”

“If you actually paid attention instead of throwing notes at me because you are bored--you’d see that he used _this_ one.” Spectre tapped the paper with his pen irritably. “It’s not that hard.”

Miyu threw herself over the length of the table, papers scattering. “Spe-chan is a mean tutooooor--”

“I never said I was nice. Sit up and do it again.” Spectre downed a long sip of coffee. Why was he helping her again? He had only agreed to give Jin a hand since he’d be helping him with English later. Somehow he ended up roped into her pace again--he didn't like it.

“Spectre.” Jin poked his hand with his pencil and slid his paper over to him. “Is this correct?” 

He glanced over Jin’s scribbled numbers then circled a minus sign with his pen. “This is supposed to be a plus sign. Pay attention.”

“Ah. Thanks.” 

There was a blissful moment of peace, where Miyu finally sat up and worked quietly with Jin. It gave Spectre time to work on his own exercises, finally. He could also faintly hear the conversation Takeru and Kusanagi were having.

“I should get going.” Takeru said, eventually.

“Are you going to see Revolver again?” 

Kusanagi’s words gave Spectre pause and his head snapped towards them.

“...Yeah.” Takeru waved a hand in goodbye. “See ya, Kusanagi-san.”

Spectre stared after him before making a split second decision; his chair clattered as he stood up, moving around the table. He ignored Miyu’s and Jin’s confused looks and hurried after Takeru before he could lose sight of him. Luckily he hadn't made it far from the truck when Spectre caught up to him.

“Homura-san--”

Takeru stopped in his tracks. He arched an eyebrow at him as he turned to face him.

“You…have been visiting Ryoken-sama.” It was not so much a question but an affirmation. Takeru stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded.

“...Yeah.”

“...” Spectre clenched his fists. “How...is he?” It was strange to be asking this to someone else, specially Takeru, who Spectre had barely spoken to during the times they had worked together. But he needed to know.

Takeru's expression was troubled.

“Honestly, he doesn’t look good.” He huffed. “He told me not to visit anymore, last time.”

“Why are you, then?” Spectre insisted, with a step forward. “I was under the impression you had no business left with him...or rather, that you held no sympathy for Ryoken-sama.” Ryoken hadn’t gone into much detail about his duel with Soulburner with him, but he had seemed strangely at ease when he mentioned it to him. What had changed?

“Leaving him alone doesn’t seem _right._ ”

Spectre scoffed. “Pity, is it?” 

“No!” Takeru barked, annoyed. “God, are you the same as him? Why does everything have to be pity or an ulterior motive? Is it so weird that I give a crap about him?”

Spectre stared at him. Takeru seemed uncomfortable under his gaze, back hunching defensively. Around them it was not quiet; the big screens flashed blue behind Takeru and the speakers boomed with the sound of dueling; the people around them cheered. Despite this, Spectre heard Takeru clearly when he spoke, straightening himself.

“I just--for once, I want to _understand_ him.”

 _Hah._ Takeru was hilarious. As if someone like him could ever hope to understand Ryoken--as if Ryoken would ever _let him_. The determination that he turned on Spectre was laughable, it should be, but Spectre couldn’t laugh.

“So even if he pushes me away I’ll go see him again.” Takeru said. “I have a favor to return.” Spectre wondered about that favor, but it must have had to do with their duel. Something Spectre didn’t know about--it irked him. 

“So don’t worry--I’ll make sure he doesn’t do another stupid thing.”

Spectre couldn’t jump to Ryoken’s defense on this one. He had never agreed to him handing himself over--even if all of Ryoken’s actions had a purpose behind. He contemplated Takeru for a moment. 

“Homura-san?”

“...?”

“...Thank you.” He crossed his arms. Gratitude was reserved to a select few, in his eyes, but right now--as far as he knew--Takeru was the only one who cared enough to visit Ryoken. Spectre couldn’t do that for him, this time. “Perhaps you are different than what I thought.”

“And how did you think I was?”

“A brute idiot.” He cupped his chin. “I still think you are those things--but idiots like you tend to be emotional and sentimental, no? In this situation, perhaps that is a good thing.”

Takeru spluttered, eyes wide. “I--Are you paying me a compliment?” He sounded a bit irritated. “I seriously can’t tell right now.”

“Take it as you like.” Spectre grinned, shaking his head. “If I may make a request, please send my regards to Ryoken-sama.”

“...Alright. I will.” Takeru ruffled his hair before stuffing his hands back in his pockets, half turning on his heel. “See ya--oh, yeah.” He gestured with his chin behind Spectre. His smile felt teasing. “Should I tell him you made new friends?”

“Those two are not my friends.”

“No?” Takeru tilted his head. “Guess I read into it wrong.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Takeru turned, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he walked away. “See ya.”

Spectre’s brow furrowed but he didn’t linger there, returning to the table where Jin and Miyu were waiting for him. Miyu was the first to speak.

“What was that just now, Spe-chan?” She drummed her hands on the table. “You ran after Take-chan like a desperate man !” She wriggled her eyebrows. “Were you two maybe...you know...ex-lov--”

“Finish that sentence and I promise I will choke you.” Spectre fixed his stack of notebooks with a resolute slam on the table, glaring daggers at her. “It’s none of your business.”

“Does it have to do with your liege?” Jin interceded, rubbing the soft end of his pencil on his hair, looking over his paper. “I heard Homura-san talking about Revolver with Nii-san a few times."

“Does Take-chan go visit him?” Miyu asked.

“Apparently.” Jin nudged his sheet towards Spectre. “Hey, is this okay--”

“Maybe that’s it!” Miyu’s eyes practically sparkled. “Perhaps Take-chan and Spe-chan’s Ryoken-sama are lov--”

Spectre shoved his notebook in her face to shut her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	9. A light in a dark place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoken's dreams show him a face he hasn't seen in a while. Perhaps now he can officially admit to himself that he has reached his lowest point.  
> But even in a dark place, there're still a drop of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow Sonny two updates one so close to the other? YEP, I actually had this chapter 99% done before I sat my butt to finish Spectre's...and my impatient ass can't wait to post this so ya'll get Ryoken's ch too ! (Also cheesy title is cheesy )
> 
>  **WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER** , mostly for the start of this:  
> >Everything between || || and in italics is part of a dream. Mentions of a decaying corpse by the end of that sequence so...yeah.  
> >A panic attack  
> >Slight emetophobia (vomit) warning, nothing too descriptive but just in case
> 
> Those are the biggest ones I guess, if anyone thinks another warning would be wise let me know ! I'm very bad at tagging those but I know some people would rather have those warnings than going in blind and be caught off guard.
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Etc. always appreciated ! <33

His father appeared often at the corner of his eye. 

Ryoken was aware of his presence; he observed Ryoken from somewhere, like his own shadow, but whenever Ryoken tried to catch his eye--he would no longer be there. 

It had been so ever since the Tower of Hanoi. He was unable to face his father after that failure and thus, his features were obscured from view. Sometimes he dreamed his father’s hand was on his shoulder or patting his hair, gently; sometimes Ryoken would be looking down at the shoes his father used to wear every day...or he saw him at a distance, working wordlessly while drinking a cup of coffee. He would see his back--wearing that old lab coat--but Ryoken was never able to approach. 

They all felt like memories from when he was a kid; he wanted to speak to him but couldn’t form the words.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

_|| Revolver stood in the Knights of Hanoi’s headquarters, the place just as dark as he remembered it. The only source of light was a screen that displayed a series of images._

_His father stood in front of it with his back to Revolver. Revolver approached, his steps echoing in the silence; he settled at his father’s side, glancing up at the pictures._

_The Tower of Hanoi; his duel with Playmaker; his loss and the subsequent fall of the Tower._

_“You lost.” His father said._

_Revolver took a small breath in. “Yes.”_

_“Why did you not try to rebuild the tower again?”_

_“I intended to continue our mission, after I returned.” The screen showed glimpses of Bohman, the Ignis--Lightning. “There were some unexpected occurrences, however.”_

_More images: teaming up with Playmaker, working together; the war with the Ignis; his duel against Lightning, with Jin Kusanagi in the middle._

_“You hesitated. What happened?”_

_Revolver pressed his lips together--breathed in again. “I choose not to sacrifice Jin Kusanagi for victory. That is not how I want to do things.”_

_“That's how we have been doing things, Ryoken. For the greater good.” The screen showed his loss, the conversation he had had with Playmaker and Ai as he laid in the flowerfield; he could almost smell the flowers. “You grew soft with the Ignis.”_

_Breathe in. “That is **untrue** .” _

_“Don’t lie to me, Ryoken.” His father turned to him. The space glitched out and faded, morphing into the wide room that oversaw the sea in his mansion. There was the beeping of a machine closeby; a chill crept up Ryoken’s spine._

_“You bowed to see my wishes through. But you were hoping for an excuse not to, weren’t you?”_

_“That’s **not it**. ” Desperation beat fast in his chest. _

_“You didn’t delete the Ignis. You left the work to someone else.”_

_“They destroyed each other, is that not enough?!” It was like being a child throwing a tantrum. His father seemed so much taller, out of the corner of his eyes, but Ryoken didn’t dare turn to him._

_“That is a pitiful excuse for failing to see your mission through.” A heavy hand grabbed Ryoken’s shoulder. “Son. Look at me.”_

_“No.” It was ironic; he had wanted to see him again, had chased after him for so long and now Ryoken was suddenly too afraid to look._

_Perhaps a part of him had always hoped he wouldn’t; the part of him that didn’t want to face him after his failures._

_“Ryoken.” His father’s voice was sad, disappointed--growing distorted. The grip on Ryoken’s shoulder got tighter, almost enough to bruise, and he was roughly spun around. Ryoken came up to eye level with his abdomen and the red line of his shirt. The beeping behind them sped up along with Ryoken’s heart rate._

_“Tell me. Tell me what you did.”_

_“I…let the Tower fail.” He almost didn’t recognize his own voice; he sounded smaller--younger. “I ran away. I…” **‘I turned my back on our mission’.** He swallowed. He couldn’t speak. _

_“Why, Ryoken?” The grip on his shoulder hurt. Another hand--bony and decrepit--gripped his chin and forced him to look up. Ryoken’s stomach turned at the sight of his father’s face: it was almost grotesque, with the skin a sickly color, thin and transparent; a decaying corpse. It was like staring death in the face. “Why did you turn your back on everything I worked for?”_

_Ryoken pushed himself away without thinking, a scream stuck on his throat, and stumbled backwards. “I did not want to fail--I-I swear, I was--”_

_“All our hard work, **wasted** **.** Tell me--” The beeping of machinery was too loud but his father’s words rose above it; he loomed over Ryoken, the shadows painting a terrifying picture. _

_**Ryoken did this to him.** _

_“What did I die for, then?”_

_Ryoken’s breath hitched, dread coiling around his throat. He was too weak. His father died because of him--he had sacrificed himself for Ryoken and Ryoken had failed him._

_“Father I’m sorry, I--” **I’ll make this better, please let me make this better.** _

_Bony digits reached for Ryoken and Ryoken drew back, bumping into the bed behind him. A freezing hand circled around his wrist and he screamed, craning his head back; the Kogami on his deathbed stared at him unblinkingly with hollow dark eyes._

_“You were supposed to follow me to the end.” ||_

That was the last thing Ryoken say before he finally woke up with a scream lodged up his throat, sitting up like a man ready to run away--but all he did was stumble sideways, his body falling half out of the futon into the hard floor. Nausea and terror mixed in his stomach; he felt like he could throw up but he also couldn't _breath_.

His brain was slow in realizing he was hyperventilating; he hadn't had a panic attack in a long time. He couldn't move, paralyzed by the vivid images of his nightmare; his father's words echoed in his head and the darkness around him.

_'Why did you turn your back on everything I worked for?'_

Ryoken curled up in a ball, digging his nails into his scalp, trying to bring himself back to reality. His heart thundered in his ears and his chest wracked with harsh breaths; every now and then he gagged, threatening on emptying his stomach all over the floor. 

_'Breathe. Breathe. Sit up._ **_Breathe_ ** _._ ' It was with tremendous effort that he pulled himself off the floor, enough to sit with his legs bent at the knees and spread to hang his head between them. He dug the heels of his palms over his eyes and brought one stuttering breath in, one shaking breath out. In, out, in out, just concentrate on the next breath.

_'What did I die for, then?'_

Ryoken breath hitched and the nausea made itself more present. He wasn't fast enough to get to the sink; he gagged once and the next he puked bile and saliva onto the floor. He hadn't eaten enough to bring anything solid back out. 

He gagged a couple more times, breaths still wracking his body, before he slumped sideways against the wall and focused on breathing. 

"What's going on here?"

Only now was a guard coming to check up what the ruckus was about. Their flashlight lighted up a part of his cell. Ryoken didn’t register the cell door opening or the man coming in. 

Then a hand grabbed his shoulder; a decrepit hand, bones digging onto his shoulder, his father looming over him--

On instinct he batted it away. 

"Do not fucking _touch_ me." His voice was a weak rasp.

The guard grasped him by the hair and tilted his head up. Light flashed into Ryoken's face, too bright for his eyes. "Sleep hours are for sleeping and you don't move from your bedding." 

Ryoken dug his nails on the guards wrist; rational thinking flew out the window and he lashed at the guard with a kick. He was still too high strung with panic to think this through.

The guard merely grunted when his foot met his abdomen but Ryoken barely had strength to budge him. It only irritated the man further.

"Don't get _smart_ with me." The guard pushed him into into the futon, paying him back with a well aimed kick to the stomach. The wind knocked right out of him--he could have puked all over again. Instead he glared at the guard in between puffed breaths. 

That simple act earned another jab to his face. Ryoken scrunched up his eyes in pain but refused to make a sound.

When it didn’t seem he was gonna offer further resistance, the guard scoffed and pressed the sole of his boot to the spot he’d hit. “Go back to sleep brat. I’m being _merciful_ here.”

With that warning, the guard went away, the cell door shutting behind him. Ryoken curled his arms around his stomach, dizziness sweeping over him. He couldn’t tell how long he laid there, shaking and breathing in and out to regain himself. By the time he was calmer, exhaustion washed over him like a tidal wave; he could do nothing but let himself fall unconscious in a defeated, aching slumber.

At least, this time, his mind showed him no more dreams.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

"So.” Doctor Amano tapped her pen to her notebook twice. “I heard you had an encounter with the guard last night." 

Ryoken blinked slowly. The bruise that’d formed on his cheek after that second kick told no lies. "Perhaps."

"Kogami-kun. What happened?"

Ryoken stared back at her and didn't reply. Her gaze hardened.

"You are not making this any easier for yourself. Misbehaviour won't look good on your profile at the time you leave." She shook her head. “While I do not approve of the violent ways of the guard, you got off lucky this time. They can be quite brutal.”

"Doctor Amano." Ryoken finally spoke. He was exhausted. "I am a man with little to lose, anymore." He tilted his head and smiled lightly, a phantom curl of his lips. "I am already a criminal in society's eyes, in the people I have hurt. A little misbehaviour won't affect the overall view people have on me."

Doctor Amano sighed. She gazed at him with genuine pity for the first time.

“Kogami-kun. Do you believe you deserve to be hurt, for all the hurt you caused?”

Her question floated in the silence. Ryoken held her gaze a long moment then turned away--an answer in itself. His fingers curled on his pant leg. 

“Is that why you also yelled at your frequent visitor?” Papers rustled, as she looked through her notes. “Homura-kun, I believe is his name. A friend of yours?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Ryoken said. “I...don’t believe he considers us that. Our paths crossed once, but there shouldn’t be anything tying us together anymore.” 

“And yet, he visits you every two weeks.” She looked up at him. “He must care about you.”

“He shouldn’t.” Another truth, slipping out. 

“...Why do you think that?” She asked, gently, and in that moment, Ryoken didn’t have the strength to ignore the question and lie. 

He was tired: tired of the way he was crumbling under the pressure, tired of his mind painting reminders of his every failure, his every mistake. 

Had he finally sank so low? It was shameful that this was what it took, after everything he’d done.

Ryoken let out a breath and tilted his head up, eyes staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in it. Even when he felt weaker than ever, he refused to let his shoulders fall. He still had pride.

“It is as you say.” He admitted, slowly. “I believe I deserve this. It is a waste of time to care for a criminal...that is all.” 

Doctor Amano was silent. Then-- “Kogami-kun.” She said. “I’m neither your friend nor your enemy. I am merely a counselor and you, one of my many patients.” Ryoken peered down at her. “If I cared deeply for every one of you, it would affect my job. This relationship is strictly professional. If you won’t accept help from a place of kindness, won’t you accept it from me?” She held her hand out, resting it palm up on the table between them. “Even you must know you are reaching your limit. Would you tell me more?”

Ryoken stared at her, scrutinizing. For as much as he had rejected her help, her arguments were sound. He had to admit he respected her for remaining impartial, counseling criminals of different backgrounds. 

Strictly professional; Ryoken’s exhausted mind said he could work with that. Give an inch.

“...What would you like to know?”

“I will take anything you want to tell me, at the moment.” She leaned back on her chair and assumed a listening posture. “What’s on your mind?”

Ryoken took a subtle breath in, resting his palms on his thighs. With a calm he didn’t feel, he began to talk.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

While he had avoided certain (many) details, regarding his nightmares, speaking openly about his latent stress these past few months felt both relieving and the complete opposite. 

He hadn’t expected it’d leave him even more drained than he already was--though that could also be attributed to his sleep deprivation and lack of eating. Eventually, that caught up with him too; mixed with the cold in the cells, it was not a surprise that he ended up falling sick. 

Those few days were a blur to him, prey to a daze of fever induced visions and someone forcing medicine down his throat occasionally. Even with the sick they weren’t particularly gentle but Ryoken was too feverish to register much of anything. 

By the time he recovered, he had no idea what day it was. Last time...the last time Takeru had visited, February had been almost over; had he really spent three and a half months here? It felt longer. He still had three more months to get through.

Takeru visiting him wasn’t something he expected, after the way Ryoken had lashed out at him. He almost wanted to laugh; that would be fair. Maybe Takeru would finally see what a waste of time it was.

And then, he was notified his frequent visitor was back.

Ryoken refused to see him; was Takeru an idiot? 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

He _was_ , clearly, because, two weeks after, Ryoken had a visitor once more.

Ryoken accepted to see him, this time. 

“You look like shit.” Takeru said the moment Ryoken sat opposite him. Ryoken had been avoiding mirrors, when he could, but he could make a fair guess at what Takeru was seeing: hollower cheeks and bags forming under his eyes, his complexion paler than usual.

Takeru frowned. “What happened to your face? Who….”

“A bad encounter with a guard a couple of nights ago.” The bruise on his cheek wasn’t the dark purple it’d been before but it was still noticeable. 

Takeru narrowed his eyes at the guard behind Ryoken and the one on his side. 

“It was neither of them.” Ryoken said. Takeru pursed his lip. Before he could ask further about it, Ryoken changed the subject. “I did not think you’d come back, Homura.”

“When you didn’t want to see me last time, I thought to give it up.” He sounded mad but not bitter. He leant precariously back on his chair, his other hand in his pocket. “But I couldn’t.”

“...Why?”

“Because you didn’t let me say anything in return.” Takeru scowled at him. “Because you’re clearly _not_ holding out well and it pisses me off that you keep trying to appear cool and collected.” He gave Ryoken an up and down look, scowling further. “You look like a mess.”

Ryoken puffed out a breath, looking to the side. Takeru didn’t hold back his punches. “ I would rather not be seen at the end of my rope like this.”

“Then why did you agree to see me this time?”

Ryoken hummed, genuinely thinking about it. The truth slipped easily out of him this time.

“I wanted to see you.” He peered up at Takeru. His unwavering, lilac gaze made Ryoken speak further. “Your visits, strangely...keep me grounded. I feel like I—” He stopped, swallowing.

“Tell me.” Takeru’s voice lowered as he leant closer to the glass. “Don’t shut me out.”

Ryoken pressed his lips together before his feeling bubbled up.

“Everything is catching up with me.” Ryoken’s voice rose slightly. “It is not as if I was not aware, before, but now I have _too much_ time to think; think of things I do not want to. I feel stifled, like I am choking in all my mistakes, all the things I turned a blind eye to, and my head will not let me forget.” He took in a sharp breath and met Takeru’s eyes, knowing the vulnerability showing in his own. “I feel _lost_ , about to crumble.” He huffed out a laugh, shoulders shaking; his tone was bitter. “Is it not amusing to you, to see me at my lowest, Homura? You should laugh. It is laughable, that this is all it takes to finally bring me down.” 

“No.” Takeru snapped. “It’s not _funny_.”Takeru’s fist curled above the table. “I’m not laughing, Ryoken Kogami. You...are a sad sight right now. And I’m not happy about it.”

“...This was easier when you hated me.” Ryoken’s hand dragged across the side of his face, shoulders falling. His defenses wavered. “I do not want your pity, or for you to feel sorry for me. I choose this. I deserve this.”

“This isn’t _pity._ ” Takeru bit out. He lifted his gaze enough to meet his eyes again. Ryoken saw sincerity in them. “You made your choice. I get _why_ you did. But--this is _wrong_ . I don’t think _you_ deserve to be suffering this much. If anyone should be where you are right now, it’s Doctor Kogami.” Takeru’s gaze hardened. “But he got off easy.”

A feeling he couldn’t describe bubbled up his chest, that same rejection that he felt whenever Yusaku said he would save him. “I am not a good person, Homura.” His hand dropped against the table. “I hurt and almost _killed hundreds of people_ for my own selfish wants. I deserve to be here as much as my father would have. Do not let me trick you into believing I’m--”

Takeru slammed his palm on the table and stood up, the chair legs screeching as it was pushed back. “ _Shut up_ !” Takeru’s voice rose in volume. “You aren’t _tricking_ me, or deceiving me, or whatever stupid idea you got in your head !” 

The guards had stood to alert like last time. Takeru seemed to realize this and sighed, sitting back down and pulling his chair in. His expression remained intense.

“Maybe you can’t see yourself as a good person but you can’t tell _me_ what to think. I used to believe you were the one that ruined my life but you ended up being the one that _got me out_ . You ended up helping me, when I was still _stuck_ in the past.” His hand gripped the front of his hoodie. “I didn’t use to think you were a good person. Now I think you _want_ to be. You changed, you _are_ changing.” He stressed every word, as if wanting Ryoken to believe him.

“And even when you say you are just paying for your own crimes here , I think you are trying to punish yourself for things you couldn’t help. I don’t think....you are free from your curse.”

Takeru’s gaze, filled with so much conviction, froze Ryoken in place. He was speechless, which only let Takeru continue. “This isn’t pity, okay? I won’t say I’ll save you. I’m not that kind of hero.” His voice lowered. His fingers brushed his side of the glass. “But you helped me. I...” 

“You owe me nothing.” Ryoken muttered weakly. “You helped yourself in the end--”

“Will you quit being so stubborn?” Takeru huffed. “Maybe I pulled myself together...but you gave me the push I needed. No matter what you say.” His eyes softened when Ryoken looked up again; the lilac in his eyes seemed brighter than before and Ryoken couldn’t look away from him. He pressed his hand fully to his side of the glass. “I won’t let you give up on yourself, Ryoken.”

Ryoken felt like someone was squeezing at his heart and his throat. He was hanging on a fine thread ready to snap and at the same time warmth coiled around him, keeping him upright. 

In that gloomy visiting room, with the light bulb that flickered with its last breaths of life, with its four dull grey walls and its hard metal chairs-- Takeru stood out, bleaching the monotone with his colors. He was the only presence Ryoken could look at.

Slowly, he rose his hand and placed it over Takeru’s on his side of the glass. “...You’re a fool.” There was no heat in his words. He forced himself not to face away, not from Takeru--not from _this_. “I did not expect our paths would continue to intertwine like this.”

“I wanted them to. I wanted to see you too.” Takeru smiled. “Is that okay?” 

Ryoken managed a nod. “You really do not have to do anything for me. I don’t--”

“It’s not about _deserving._ ” Takeru interrupted him, eyes determined. “I _want_ to be here.”

Ryoken sighed. “Stubborn.” 

Takeru huffed out a laugh. “Look who’s talking.”

Quiet fell around them. Ryoken glanced at their hands, which were only separated by the glass, and curled his fingers a little. Takeru’s hand was smaller than his. Ryoken hadn’t had physical contact--other than the rough handling of the guards--with another person in _months_. He wondered what Takeru’s palm would feel like under his: rough, he imagined. Warm.

“...You…” He began, glancing back up. “...called me by my name, just now.”

Takeru blinked. “Oh. I...I guess I did. Ever since last time I thought it felt weird to keep calling you Revolver. If you’d rather I not I--”

“No, I...” Ryoken shook his head. “I do not mind you calling me by my name. I prefer it.” He hadn’t heard his name in a while, either. “Could you...say it again?”

Takeru didn’t seem fazed by the request. “...Ryoken.” 

He smiled slightly. Takeru’s voice, that had once held so much bitterness for him, so much anger in the way he would say _‘Revolver’_ , it was now so much softer. It was an startling change but, for a moment, whether he deserved or not for his name to be said so softly--Ryoken didn’t care. 

“Thank you, Homura.”

“You could call me by name, too. I don’t mind.”

Ryoken tilted his head. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “ _Takeru_ , then.”

Takeru gave him a look that Ryoken couldn’t quite decipher. “You know you...you can be--”

“Hm?”

“No, uh, it’s nothing.” Takeru’s gaze flickered to the sides. Then it settled on their hands, still pressed to the glass. He curled the tips of his fingers, as if he wanted to dig into the glass and reach past it, before he let his hand fall away. Slowly, almost reluctant, and Ryoken did the same.

They looked at each other. So much seemed to hang in the air, in the space between them. It was too much to put a name to it; Ryoken wondered what this unspoken thing was, what it meant for them. 

But as it was, these visits were forced to a short end and cut any opportunity to explore it. The guard was ready to scort Ryoken back.

“Till next time, then.” Takeru said, standing on his end. He suddenly looked like he remembered something. “Oh, yeah--Spectre says hi.”

“You met with him?” Ryoken wished Takeru hadn’t waited till now to tell him. “Is he okay?”

“He seemed fine. He was worried about you.” Takeru pointed a finger at him. “So look after yourself. You got people waiting for you when you get out.” 

“...Yes. I know.” Ryoken nodded. “Good bye, Hom--Takeru.” He would have to get used to that. 

Takeru flashed him a small grin and a two finger salute. “See ya, Ryoken.” He hooked the phone back in place and made his way out. Ryoken watched his back before he returned to his cell.

Alone, now, he pressed a hand to his chest. 

There was an odd relief nesting there, foreign to him. Even though he’d pushed, Takeru had reached again. He stared Ryoken down with those eyes that bore untamable flames.

Ryoken had once rejected the hand Yusaku held out for him, promising a way forwards: friendship,a future, neither of which were things Ryoken had hoped to grasp.

Now Takeru reached for him, but it felt different than the way Yusaku had. Or maybe Ryoken was changing, after all.

Even when that world of light didn’t belong to him, this time, he selfishly _wanted_ to reach back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if,,,, what if we touched hands,,,,with the visitor's room glass between us,,,,what if 😳😳😳
> 
> I HAVE BEEN WAITING 8 CHAPTERS TO WRITE THAT SCENE, this fic starves me from fluff, I brought this on myself. Once this prison arc (as I refer to it in my head) ends, we'll finally be getting more fluff up in here, I expect...I am excited to plan all of that !!! Next chapter will most likely be another Ryoken chapter ;^)
> 
> Once more thank you to everyone for reading !!!  
> \---
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	10. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoken's sentence comes to an early end and he goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, chapter 10 is here ! I AM KIND OF AMAZED THIS FIC IS 10 CHAPTERS LONG ALREADY LIKE WOW !!! And one arc is coming to an end !!
> 
> This one is a short chapter, but I included a little bonus that I like how it came out <3 Also any links you see will lead you to a youtube video with music that I feel would play in that moment ! Thought it'd be a neat extra too if anyone wants to listen while reading :'D
> 
> As a thank you to all of you that have been sticking around this far, I drew [this small thing too](https://twitter.com/moons0nata/status/1259555614956687364)!! I hope to draw something more elaborate sometime (and include Spectre and co. too!)...but know I appreciate u all a lot just because you stopped to read my silly writing 🙏💖 It means a lot !!
> 
> As always comments/kudos/etc. appreciated as well ! <3

March rolled in with a surprise announcement.

“You might be happy to hear.” Doctor Amano said. “That they’ll be releasing you earlier than originally planned.”

Ryoken blinked. “...Pardon?”

“Your sentence was supposed to be six months, correct?” Doctor Amano arranged her notes as she talked. “Well, it has been decided, for your good behavior, that you will get to leave next month instead.”

“Good behavior.” Ryoken said flatly. “I believe you told me that my little encounter with the guard would not look good on my profile.”

“It was taken into account. But my opinion was, as well.” She tapped her notebook. “Like I told you your first day here, my job is to help you through your stay here and reinstate you in society.”

“I was far from cooperative with you, these past months.”

“True.” She nodded. “It is regrettable you had to reach a cracking point to finally confide in me.” Ryoken gazed away at that, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I have assessed that it is more reasonable to release you than keep you here. Of course, I am not the one that makes the final decision, but the higher ups have all been in agreement.”

“Oh.” Ryoken wasn’t really sure what else to say. Six months had originally felt like they were a very short sentence but these past three--going on four--had felt longer. 

“In regards to your incident with the guard, I spoke of it with the higher ups.” She said. “It was labeled as misbehavior but I insisted they considered the situation as a whole. Particularly, your physical and mental situation at the time...I considered the guard was out of line, as well, and abused his authority, but I don’t know if they listened to that part.”

“I…” Ryoken felt slightly ashamed. “I suppose I owe you a thank you, for that.”

“You owe me nothing, Kogami-kun.” She said. “I only hope you’ll do your best this remaining month and stay in the guards good side. And, if you are feeling nice--” She smiled. “--let me do my job and confide in me more, alright?”

Ryoken arched an eyebrow. “If I was nice, I would not be here in the first place, would I?”

She sighed, smile a little more exasperated. “...You can go, Kogami-kun.”

His last month in prison seemed to pass both quickly and terribly slow. Conversing more with Doctor Amano did make it easier; he still didn’t trust her with deep details, but he made an effort to answer _some_ of her questions with honesty. When it came to it, just exchanging words was a small respite after hours alone in silence.

Takeru was surprised when he told him about his early release.

“Really? That’s great !” Takeru grinned. “When are they letting you go?”

“The date is not defined, yet, but it should be around the first days of April.” Ryoken said, rubbing at his temple. “Frankly these three months felt like six, already.”

“I can imagine.” Takeru said. “So?”

“So?”

“What’s the first thing you’ll do when you are out?” 

“...Go home?” Ryoken said, more like a question. Takeru rolled his eyes.

“I mean, other than that. Isn’t there something you are itching to do? Like, eat something, sleep for three days straight in an _actual bed_?”

“Oh.” Ryoken looked up in thought. “I suppose…” He hadn’t really given it much thought, other than checking on Pandor and the network, and see how Spectre was fairing. He hummed. “...if I am still welcome, I might consider paying Cafe Nagi a visit.” 

Takeru snorted. “Believe me, I think Kusanagi-san will be _glad_ to have one of his regulars back. Business is slow.” He fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie. “He asked me about you when I visited him. Says he’ll reserve you a cup of coffee when you get out.”

Ryoken huffed through his nose, a little amused. “That is unnecessary.”

“It’s free coffee dude, just take it.” Takeru said. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other when you’re there. And...”

“...Yes?”

“You know we could--hang out, once you’re free.” Takeru smiled lopsidedly. “It’d be nice to talk without a glass between us.”

“Oh. Right.” Ryoken glanced down at the table. Somehow a part of Ryoken knew they’d meet once he was let go. Yet, at the same time, he hadn’t actually considered the fact they _could,_ for something as mundane as getting coffee together.

“Unless you don’t _want_ to hang out. I understand…” Takeru sounded dejected and Ryoken gaze snapped up.

“No, I _do_ \--” He paused, seeing the cheeky look in Takeru’s face. “What.”

“You want to, too.” Takeru said. Ryoken frowned, the back of his neck feeling a little hot.

“It’s nothing to be smug about.” He retorted, which only made Takeru laugh.

“I like tricking you into being honest.” 

“Shut up, _Takeru._ ”

Takeru stuck out his tongue. “Make me, _Ryoken_.”

Their back and forths were lighthearted, playful, and made these fleeting visits even more fleeting.

Ryoken wouldn’t be opposed to more of _this,_ whatever it was, once he could actually kick Takeru under the table to shush him.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

March came to an end and with it so did Ryoken’s sentence.

It was late in the evening by the time they finally deemed him ready to transport back home. At least he was being driven there and not forced to walk; Ryoken wasn’t sure he actually knew the way back on foot or on public transport.

It was nice to have his few possessions back on his power: cellphone, clothes and wallet. He twirled the card Doctor Amano had given him earlier, as well.

_“Here, for you.” She’d said. The card was plain white, with a number on it and a tiny jasmine flower on the corner. “I have a private office as a therapist. If you ever wish to talk more, give that number a call.”_

_Ryoken eyed her curiously. “I thought you did not play favorites, Doctor.”_

_“I don’t.” She smiled. “It’s merely an offer. I extend it to those I believe could use it--but It’s up to you to take it, Kogami-kun.”_

_“...I’ll have it in mind. Thank you.”_

He pocketed the card as the guard ushered him forwards through the back entrance. The first thing he noticed was the chilly spring breeze, the sky red and slowly darkening behind the trees around the building. As soon as he was settled on the van parked a few feet from the entrance, they set off; the vehicle had no windows in the back so Ryoken watched the prison fade only for an instant through the front window and then set his eyes forwards. It was a silent drive, hardly comfortable with a guard at his side, but it was blissfully uneventful.

After a few minutes, the city came into view, with its artificial lights and tall buildings, bustling with life. They soon left that behind, as well, as the van made its way for Ryoken’s place away from the busy streets. 

Despite the relief that came with being outside of his prison, Ryoken’s dread grew the closer they got to the mansion; it wasn’t a feeling he could give a reason to, yet, but once the van stopped by the entrance, he had a knot in his stomach.

He was dropped off without much comment from neither the driver or the guard. They simply made sure he made it to his door then turned the van around and went the way they’d came. 

Ryoken glanced up at the mansion, looming over him. He hadn’t been here in over a year--he hadn’t been able to step a foot in it again, but he didn’t have a choice right now.

He approached the door, hesitating. He gripped the strap of his small bag, took a deep breath and finally pressed the number combination on the pad to open the front door lock.

The house was empty, as it had been for a long time. His steps created a familiar echo as he walked down the entrance hall and then took a turn to pass through the living room; couches were neatly arranged in a circle around a low table and rows of shelves lined the walls. Dust collected over the furniture, over even more old dust. He had scarcely used this room.

It was strange to be back here, with so many things that called for his attention and made him reminiscence. He swept his fingers over the books on the shelves, fingers leaving a mark where they brushed off the dust; they were books his father would read, once upon a time and that Ryoken had been unable to discard. Trinkets had been put up for decoration on empty spots, odd little things: statues, figures that Ryoken couldn’t even remember when they had appeared. 

The framed photo in one corner of the bookshelf greeted him back, his younger self and his father standing together. It made his heart squeeze painfully; Ryoken had been so young and scared, then, already knowing what his father was doing behind everyone’s backs. He tore his eyes away from it and left the room, choosing to go upstairs. 

He should have gone straight to his room, but his feet stopped before another door; the room where his father had once laid. Dread coiled around his gut even tighter, thinking of a beeping of a heart monitor and the decaying body of his father, staring down at him. Bony hands and hollow dark eyes; he almost felt a phantom pressure on his shoulder.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, he forced himself to open the door. 

The room was empty; the bed was empty, as well, as it had for over a year now. The sight of it added another weight on Ryoken’s chest. 

Being back here was heavy and stifling. Everything he saw reminded him of what he had lost. Every step he took into the room reverberated like a beat of his heart.

But it wasn’t until he glanced outside through the glass that reality forcefully busted its way in.

The sun had set; the sky was lit only with stars, the new moon hidden in the cloak of darkness. However, it was not a dark night, not with the way the sea glowed down by the beach.

[ _Stardust Road._ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WhBFJ28Eck0) The cold glass met his fingertips when he reached to touch it.

The sight had once been comforting, a reminder that there was a path for him to follow; a reminder of his father’s hand on his shoulder, his steady guide. 

Now that hand was nothing more than a ghost he carried on his back; now the beautiful scenery made something in him break. The cracks that had been building over time turned to craters, sinking deep into him, tearing him apart. 

Only now, completely alone, his breath stuttered and his eyes started to burn.

“Father--” A sob was teared out of his throat. The first tear fell, against his will, but he could do nothing to control it. He couldn’t stop it this time. His vision blurred, the fingers pressed to the glass shook and then curled, nails digging in his palm. 

Every emotion on his chest unfurled, as if an invisible hand had reached and yanked them out of him. For the first time in years, Ryoken broke down; his forehead pressed to the glass and he cried, breathing through strangled sobs.

He missed his father. For an instant, he almost _resented_ the fact he did; he had followed his wishes and that had only lead him down a destructive road. But no matter how horrible a man Kogami had been--torturing children, willing to sacrifice people for his goals--Ryoken had once looked up to him. He had adored him, the only family he could remember. 

For him, Ryoken almost became just as horrible.

He crumbled under the weight of the grief he had not allowed himself to deal with, pilled under all his mistakes. It was overwhelming and he felt like a small child, eight years old again, terrified and alone, covering his ears and hoping the screams would stop. 

No one was screaming now. It was just him, sinking to his knees and watching the tears stain his pant leg, sobs turned to quiet sniffles. 

It was hard to tell when he stopped crying, his throat hoarse, his eyes puffy and red. He wiped at his nose, making a disgusted noise. At least no one else was there to witness this moment. Small mercies.

He felt thoroughly exhausted, now. He didn’t want to move; he stayed like that, knelt on the floor with his forehead to the glass. Stardust Road reflected back on his face. He let the sight burn into his eyes until they could not stay open anymore.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Light hit his eyelids and Ryoken blinked his eyes open. At some point, tiredness must have won over him and he’d slumped over on his side across the window. He rubbed at his dry eyes with the heel of his palm, and watched the world outside;[ the sun was rising over the horizon ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ozwo5Qx-zEo), its orange light bathing over the sea and his face. There was the distant cry of seagulls in the distance, flying over the waves. 

“...The dawn of a new day, huh.” He muttered, not without a hint of irony. After last night’s breakdown, seeing the sun rise made him strangely peaceful. 

He craned his neck back, observing the room again. Specks of dust in the air were visible as they got caught in the sun rays; it gave the emptiness in the room a melancholic feeling, something not quite like nostalgia, but of something that had been lost. The room was stuck in time, stagnant.

Ryoken curled his fists and rose on unsteady legs to his full height. He turned back to the sight of the sunrise and straightened his back.

Maybe Takeru had been right, when he said he wasn’t free from his curse yet; there were still old ghosts clawing at his back, the ones he’d ignored and the ones he couldn’t tune out, always whispering to him. 

But letting his own demons drag him down forever wasn’t something Ryoken could allow. He had always had a mission that kept him moving forwards; now he had was a promise to fulfill. 

Was that promise enough to build a future of ? He didn’t know. But right now it gave him the strength he needed to stand up, even if he was barely carrying himself upright. 

It’s his first day back in the outside world; there’s was a lot of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also this chapter felt cathartic, with those last scenes....I have been holding the stardust road scene captive for months in docs !!! So glad to put it out there...ganba Ryoken, I promise you some lighter times moving forwards <3
> 
> (Bet no one was surprised what the first music link was too KJDSKJA)
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	11. First things first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being back home means getting back to work for Ryoken. There is much to catch up on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate Ryoken because I, too, upon getting back home after months, would want to do EVERYTHING. So much to do so much to see, Ryoken Kogami does not know the meaning of a BREAK !!!
> 
> Part of me says this chapter is uselessly long but it also works some bases for other things to come. Next chapters will probably stay focused on Ryoken's side but dw, Spectre n Pals will be back soon too ! Once I plot his side of the fun >:D
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Etc. always appreciated ! <33

A normal person, with a morning free of responsibilities, would have crawled to their bed and promptly passed out for a couple more hours before starting their day; maybe they would have even taken the day off of doing anything.

Instead, with the sun fresh out of hiding, Ryoken set out to get ready. His first order of business was to take a shower; it was _bliss_ to wash leisurely and without company, after sharing with strangers for months. He took his time, his tired mind coming awake and his aches easing under the spray of warm water.

He dried his body once he was done and then wiped the steam out of the big bathroom mirror to take a look at himself; he’d been thin, to begin with, but he lost a lot of weight during his time in prison. The bones of his ribs and hips seemed to stick out even more.

He sighed, tearing his gaze away, and dressed himself in a soft white shirt and pants that were too loose on him now.

He headed for the mirror over the sink, opening the compartment to check what he still had around; lucky for him he’d kept some concealer and foundation here. He grabbed both before closing the compartment again, glancing at his face in the mirror; there were dark circles under his eyes and freckles dusting his cheeks that stood out against his complexion. To think he’d spent months looking like this. He dedicated a few minutes to hide the eye-bags and the freckles under the make-up. It didn’t completely erase the exhaustion on his features, but it was marginally better and put him at ease, as if he’d regained one of the barriers that had been stripped from him.

Now that he’d freshened up, he went to retrieve his Duel Disk, attaching it to his wrist; it hadn’t been so long that the weight of it felt foreign.

Sitting back against the headboard of his bed, he activated the Duel Disk and closed his eyes just as light engulfed him.

Logging into the old Knights of Hanoi headquarters made Revolver’s stomach churn a little. It was exactly as he’d left it: dark, quiet and empty--all save for Pandor who wheeled around when he approached.

“Revolver-sama!” Her eyes glowed brighter, heels clacking on the floor as she stepped up to him. “Welcome back. You have returned sooner than anticipated.”

“Yes. For one reason or the other, I was deemed to have shown enough good behavior to be let go.” He half smiled with irony and then shook his head, stepping over towards the screens Pandor had been glancing over. “How was the network, these past months?”

Pandor sweeped the screen with two fingers, showing him different angles of Link VRAINS. “SOL Technologies has been working on expanding Link VRAINS. The user base grows by the day, too. I have been keeping tabs on everything and while it is bustling with activity, there have been no incidents.”

“Excellent.” He said. “Have there been any sightings of Playmaker?”

“None, at least not in my radar.” Pandor replied. “A few impersonations of him have popped up, however...I suppose his popularity among users remains intact.”

Revolver hummed, falling silent. It had been four months since Playmaker disappeared without notice; Revolver trusted Yusaku would return--he _had_ to believe that--but where exactly had he wandered off to? He must be concealing his identity, if he was logging into Link VRAINS at all. 

“I also had assistance with my patrolling.”  
That brought Revolver out of his thoughts, arching a curious eyebrow. “Who?”

“Soulburner-san.” Pandor smiled a little. “He has been seen in Link VRAINS quite often these days. We have conversed a lot.” She held out a finger. “He also informed me he had been visiting you and kept me updated on your status.”

“Huh…” Revolver wasn’t entirely surprised that Soulburner had taken to patrolling. He wondered why Takeru hadn’t mentioned it, though.

“He is entertaining. I know a new hoverboard trick.”

Revolver blinked. What had those two got up to, exactly? 

“One more thing.” Pandor produced and envelope out of thin air. She handed it to him. “This is a message from Akira Zaizen. It arrived a few days ago.”

Now _this_ was of notice. Revolver took the letter and opened it; a screen popped up detailing the message. It read:

> _“This message should hopefully reach you once you have returned home. I will keep the matter short, as I believe this would be best discussed in person._
> 
> _I have a proposal, something I have been considering for some time now. I believe your knowledge and your skills could be used for good. Should you be interested, there is an open position at SOL Technologies for you. I believe we could mutually benefit from working together.”_

Revolver’s hold on the letter tightened.

> _“Do not feel pressured to reply immediately. There will be plenty of time to discuss this, if you would agree to do so. All I ask is that you consider it._
> 
> _Best regards._
> 
> _\--Akira Zaizen.”_

He crushed the letter in his hand, the screen glitching out before disintegrating into pixels. He met Pandor’s unperturbed gaze behind them.

“What will you do, Revolver-sama?”

Work for SOL Technologies? The idea was completely ridiculous; with the combined reputation his father had now, as a former SOL scientist, and Revolver’s own reputation, Akira wanted them to work together? What was this man thinking?

“...I will contact him later.” He said. He would see what Akira’s intentions were, but not right now. “Let me see the Link VRAINS logs for the past few months.”

He occupied himself with what data Pandor had collected in his absence, seeing the new additions to Link VRAINS; in such a short amount of time it had grown considerably. There seemed to be a number of gates to new areas, which intrigued him most of all...he certainly wouldn’t be able to oversee it all from this post. Nothing was amiss but he lost track of time simply taking note of the updates that had happened in his absence; he’d have to see them in person, perhaps he should go now--

“Revolver-sama.” Pandor piped up. “You should rest.”

“I’m fine.” He scrolled down the screen he was currently reading over. “I might go take a look around in a minute--”

“ _Revolver-sama_.” Pandor insisted and Revolver flinched when the screen disappeared. Pandor frowned at him, lowering her hand. “Rest. Get nourishment. You have barely just returned, you must look after your health.”

Revolver arched an eyebrow. He was kind of impressed by how forceful she was being. It reminded him of someone; perhaps spending time with Soulburner had influenced her personality. 

His lips twitched at the thought.

“...Very well. We will continue working later.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

It was early afternoon by the time Ryoken made his way down from the mansion, the sun higher in the sky--had he really been that long running check ups?

The lookout point gazing over the sea was vacant, save for one particular food truck. Ryoken stopped, hesitated, then approached it.

“Good afternoon.”

Kusanagi had his back to the counter, so he jumped when Ryoken spoke. He flashed Ryoken a wide eyed look, blinking a couple times.

“Re--No, uh, Ryoken-kun?” Kusanagi rested his hands on the counter, one corner of his mouth tugging up. “Hah, I didn’t expect _you_ ! When did you get back?”

“Last night.” Ryoken said. Kusanagi laughed.

“Ah, and the first thing you do is come get a hot dog?” Kusanagi nodded sagely. “Excellent choice!”

Ryoken wouldn’t mention that the first thing he did was, in fact, work. He shrugged, smirking slightly.“Perhaps. I was told you had free coffee for me, as well.”

“Hah, yeah! One hot dog and one coffee coming right up!”

The fizzling of the grill and the smell of hot dogs filled the air; he hadn’t realized what a small yet familiar thing it was until he’d gone months without paying the truck a visit. He relaxed back against the counter, idly watching the horizon. Kusanagi passed him a mug with steaming, warm coffee which Ryoken accepted gratefully.

“I take business is slow?” Ryoken asked before taking a sip.

“There’s days and days, like everything.” Kusanagi said. “Jin and his friend come often--oh, and Spectre lately, too.”

At the name, Ryoken blinked, taken aback. “Spectre?”

“Yeah, Miyu and Jin manage to drag him here sometimes.” Kusanagi chuckled. “It’s kinda funny to watch Miyu get on his nerves, I won’t lie to you.”

“...Is it Miyu Sugisaki, by chance?”

“Yeah--you know her?”

“Not personally.” Ryoken wouldn’t elaborate, taking a longer sip of his drink. Perhaps Kusanagi would realize on his own. 

Silence fell between them for a few beats.

“So, anyways--” Kusanagi spoke again, turning Ryoken’s attention back to him. “What does it feel like coming back from behind the bars?”

Ryoken hummed. He followed the line of a seagull flying over the water, turning the cup around his hands. “I have gained a newfound appreciation for the privacy of my own bathroom.”

Kusanagi snorted. “Ah, I can see that. But I mean more like--” He flipped a sausage around then waved his tongs in the air. “--how you doin’?”

The seagull he’d been watching swept down towards the water before flying back up in an arc; he craned his neck as it flew high in the air.

“I do not think I have an honest answer for that, right now.” He replied, quietly. 

“Yeah. That’s fair.” Kusanagi poked at the sausages. “Takeru’s been dropping by. He didn’t get into details but he sounded pretty worried here and there.”

“...” Ryoken stared down at his coffee, already half gone. “Do you not find it odd?”

“Hm? What is odd?”

“Hom--Takeru.” Ryoken wasn’t sure why he was asking Kusanagi this; perhaps because he knew Takeru. “Visiting me.” _Caring about me_. 

“Not really.” Kusanagi said. “You know, we were all pretty shocked when your transmission came up on TV. For a bit there I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. ”

Ryoken tensed. Kusanagi continued, moving around behind the counter.

“I think what you did was pretty brave, kiddo. You did what Doctor Kogami never did--shed light on the truth. And more.” Ryoken turned, finding Kusanagi staring back. He wore a crooked smile. “Going to _prison_ was over the top even for you, though.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“Maybe. I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but when we first met, you were kind of a _dick._ ” The brutal honesty actually made Ryoken’s lips pull up. “But there was so much we didn’t know back then, too.”

Kusanagi scooped up the sausage with the tweezers and placed it between two slices of bread. “In the end, right or not...you being taken away didn’t feel like justice.”

Ryoken stared as Kusanagi finished up his order.

“Why?” He asked.

“How do I put this...” The sideways look he gave Ryoken was almost sad. “It felt like you were taking someone else’s place.”

Ryoken hands twitched around the mug. He finished what was left of his drink so he wouldn’t have to reply, placing the mug back on the counter.

“So, y’know, I wasn’t surprised Takeru went to visit you.” Kusanagi continued. “Ever since you two dueled, he talks differently about you, in a good way.” Kusanagi slid over his order in a paper bag across the counter. Ryoken took it, slowly, staring down at it, unsure what to say.

Then his gaze snapped up when a hand pat the top of his head; his look must have been rather comical because Kusanagi laughed.

“Bottom line is, it’s good to have one of my regulars back !”

Kusanagi retrieved his hand and Ryoken inadvertently touched the top of his head. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that.

“...I…” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Kusanagi-san.”

He pulled out his wallet to pay but Kusanagi waved him off.

“This one’s on the house. Consider it a welcome back meal.” Kusanagi leaned against the counter. “But do come around to buy hot dogs every now and then, ‘kay?”

Ryoken’s shoulders rose and dropped, half smiling. “Prison meals do not even come close to your food, Kusanagi-san. I will certainly drop by again.” 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

While he ate his lunch, now back at the mansion, he checked the recent news on his phone. Seeing his face in a couple of them, with people discussing the transmission, made him lose his appetite and he left half a hot dog without eating (Sorry, Kusanagi-san).

Least to say his reputation wasn’t outstanding right now, and SOL Technologies had taken part of the brunt; It’d be best to lay low for a while. 

He was resolute in occupying himself by taking another look at Link VRAINS but there was something he hadn’t factored in; Pandor was surprisingly persistent now.

As expected of an AI he had programmed himself, she locked him out of his account, which he only realized when he tried to access again.

“Please, Ryoken-sama.” The tiny avatar had her hands on her hips, staring up from his Duel Disk. “You appear exhausted. I insist you rest. Patrolling Link VRAINS can wait.”

“Pandor. Unlock my account this _instant._ ”

“No.” She crossed her arms; how could such a tiny AI stare up at him with such defiance? “Rest first.”

He sighed, accepting defeat rather quickly; he didn’t have the energy to try to undo her lock right then.

“...Just a couple of minutes.”

He went up to his room and dropped down on his bed, only to immediately regret it when dust flied up and made him sneeze. _Right_. This room hadn’t been cleaned in over a year.

After dropping the old bed sheets on a corner of the room, he replaced them with clean ones from the wardrobe; they smelt slightly humid, from not being aired, but it wasn’t terrible (and definitely better than sleeping on the floor). 

Laying down on the middle of the mattress, he stared up at the ceiling; the lights were off but gentle, dim sun rays made it in through the window. He didn’t _want_ to sleep, despite how tired he was. He had just got back, there was so much to do and think about. Most of all, he feared that if he rested for too long, his mind would catch up with him again.

He reluctantly closed his eyes; he’d rest for a short while to appease Pandor and then get back to work. 

He was out like a light within seconds, for once.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Ryoken awoke with a small start, hours later, the room completely dark and the sun low on the sky. He was disoriented, with a cushioned mattress under his back, until his half awake mind reminded him he wasn’t in prison anymore. No more waking up on the cold floor.

Sitting up with a grunt, he checked his phone; it was a little past dinner time.

“Evening, Ryoken-sama.” Pandor emerged from the Duel Disk, smiling. “Did you sleep well?”

“...I suppose.” He rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn. He was more rested, at least, but he had that icky feeling he’d dreamed of something unpleasant. 

He splashed his face with cold water in the bathroom to wake himself up and then grabbed his Duel Disk.

“Will you let me work, now?”

“No.” Pandor retorted, and it made his eyebrow twitch. “Dinner, first.”

“It is late for dinner.”

“You must eat, still.”

Ryoken sighed, yet abided her words by going back downstairs. “I do not believe I programmed you to be so overbearing.”

Pandor chuckled. “You also said I had free will to choose what I wanted to do. And this is what I want.” She said. “I have done some reading, these last few months. Ryoken-sama, I believe you are what is considered to be a _‘workaholic’_. Someone with little regards for their health and work as their only activity.”

“I do other things.” He protested, walking into the kitchen. 

“Such as?”

His lip pulled down in a scowl, fishing out what was left of his lunch from the paper bag. “...I read. Sometimes.”

“And?”

“...” He paused, placing his half eaten hot dog on a plate and in the microwave. “I plan Duel Monsters strategies.”

“And?”

“...” He frowned down at her before watching his food heat up. “Stop questioning me.”

“90% of your time has always been dedicated to work.” She stated. “95%, perhaps. I have scarcely seen you do anything else, but I do not know what you used to do before I was created.”

“Much the same. I do not...” He stopped. The microwave emitted a ding, signaling his food was done, so he retrieved his plate and brought it with him to the dinner table. “....I _did not_ have time for frivolities.” He corrected himself. He had time now, but where to begin taking apart the notion that he had that freedom? 

It was much too soon to think about that. Ensuring Link VRAINS remained peaceful was enough, right now.

Pandor didn’t say anything else to that; maybe she could tell he wouldn’t have another answer for her. He ate his dinner in silence and, once he’d settled his empty plate on the sink, he remembered something important he _did_ want to do.

Pulling out his phone from his pocket, he checked his short contact list and tapped on Spectre’s contact at the end. He hit the dial button; the line rang one, two times before he picked up.

“Ryoken-sama?!”

“It’s me.” He replied, calmly. There was shuffling on the other end.

“I--hold on-- _Sugisaki-san, back off._ ”

“Is your Ryoken-sama back?!” A girl’s voice said close by--Ryoken assumed that must be Miyu Sugisaki. “Tell him we say hiiii!”

“Tell him you’ve been terrorizing the school.” Another voice piped up, much quieter--was that the younger Kusanagi? “Don’t let him know you became a softie.”

“Both of you, _leave me alone._ ” Spectre’s tone was irritated. Despite being alone, Ryoken hid a small smirk behind his hand; it was new to hear his right hand man so agitated.

There was more shuffling, steps echoing from the other end, before Spectre sighed.

“Apologies for that, Ryoken-sama. I was with rather... _nosy_ company.”

“That’s alright.” Ryoken said. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

“ _Please_.” Spectre snorted. “If anything, you saved me from having to deal with Sugisaki-san’s nonsense any further.” He heaved a sigh, before his tone became lighter. “I must say I did not expect to hear from you so soon, as relieved as I am.”

“I was released earlier than planned.” He walked across the hallway as he talked, going back upstairs. “Yesterday evening, to be exact.” 

“That’s excellent news.” Relief was palpable in his voice. “How are you faring? Do you require me to get you anything?”

“I am alright. Pandor has been rather stern with me upon my return and forced me to rest for a couple of hours.” Ryoken gave his Duel Disk a glance. “I will manage.”

“Oh.”

“How has the average high school life been treating you, though?”

Spectre groaned. “Do not get me _started_ on how absolutely horrendous and torturous this is.”

Ryoken settled down on an armchair in his room, crossing his legs. “By all means, go on.”

Ryoken was certain Spectre had never rambled on for so long: he sounded exasperated most of the time, pointing out ever negative aspect about school, except when he mentioned he was taking care of the garden; that was when his tone softened. 

“Kusanagi-san is tolerable, at best, but Sugisaki-san is _insufferable._ ” He was saying, after retelling one of his last study sessions with the pair. “I _almost_ pity Blue-san for having to deal with her more than I.”

“I doubt Blue Maiden sees it the way you do.” Ryoken said. “Sugisaki is one of the reasons she aided us during the fight with the Light Ignis.”

There was a pause. Ryoken arched an eyebrow.

“Spectre?”

“Ah, I see now. That is why her name rang a bell.” 

“Had you not realized Miyu Sugisaki is also a Lost Incident victim? It is almost ironic, how fate works.” He huffed through his nose. “Bringing you three together.”

“More like fate is set out to make my life a living _hell_.” Spectre retorted. “She’s puzzling in the worst of ways.”

While Spectre’s words were full of contempt, he hadn’t spoken about other people quite like this, before. It was almost like he was interested, but wouldn’t admit it. 

“It sounds like you’re having fun.”

“ _Not in the least._ ”

It was easy to picture Spectre frowning stubbornly. Ryoken smiled a little; he was glad that one way or another, Spectre seemed to be bonding with others, even if he was sure it’d take a lot more for him to accept the notion. 

“...Ryoken-sama.” 

“Hm?”

“What will you do from now on?”

Ryoken suppressed a sigh, drumming his fingers against the armchair. That question was haunting him today.

“For now...I will be overseeing the network. I have a promise to see through.”

“...I see.” Spectre’s voice sounded slightly more hushed. “Do you require my assistance?”

Ryoken tilted his head back against the chair.

Spectre had always been beside him, as his right hand man; there were few people Ryoken trusted as much as him. However...

“No.” He replied. “Pandor will assist me. I believe it is best we do not meet up, for the time being...I take you have seen the news. My reputation is not the best in the public eye, I would rather not put yours at risk as well.”

“Ryoken-sama, you know I don’t care about that.” Spectre began to protest, but Ryoken cut him off.

“But I do.” He said. “...You have helped me much, Spectre. But I cannot ask for your assistance with this. It is something I must see through myself.” 

He wouldn’t involve Spectre again. 

“...I understand.” Spectre said, slowly. “If you are ever in need of assistance, please let me know Ryoken-sama. I will always be loyal to you, no matter what anyone says about you.”

Ryoken pressed his lips together. Breathed in.

“...Thank you, Spectre. I should probably go now.”

“Understood.” Spectre said. “Have a good evening, Ryoken-sama.”

“Likewise.”

They hung up. Ryoken sighed, slouching against the armchair.

“Was that wise?” Pandor asked. “We could use more eyes patrolling Link VRAINS.”

“It is for the best.” He replied. “Spectre has a chance at normalcy. I have abused his loyalty long enough...I do not want to tie him down.”

Pandor said nothing else to that.

“You will allow me to go now, won’t you?” He asked, already rising his Duel Disk. She nodded and Ryoken shut his eyes as his disk lit up.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Before going directly into Link VRAINS, Ryoken dedicated some time re-customizing his avatar. The last he needed was to be approached by other users or to be spotted by reporters. There were enough news about him.

Once he was pleased with the result, he applied the changes to his avatar. Instead of the usual white, his [ outfit ](https://twitter.com/moons0nata/status/1271960431809224704?s=20) was mostly black, with green accents and a hood to conceal himself; the mask was gone, too, replaced by a green visor.

It was strange, after having donned the Knights of Hanoi symbol for so long, to be rid of it; it was liberating and terrifying at the same time. He was still Revolver but he wasn’t a _leader_ anymore. 

He slung the hood over his head and stepped out into Link VRAINS, coming to stand atop a building.

It was blinding for a moment; the network was bright and colorful, rows upon rows of skyscrapers, buildings and other structures, streams of data dancing above them. There were users around here and there, some itching for a duel or conversing among themselves, some simply walking on the streets down below. 

Link VRAINS had already been large, stretching as far as the eye could see, but something already felt bigger, still growing. Revolver took the sight in, a strange alien feeling in his chest; a distance. 

He brushed it off and called on his board, hopping on it and speeding off. The night was young and he had much ground to cover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	12. Welcome back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepless night and a reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could almost say this fic updates monthly. Almost.  
> This chapter is short but I decided it was best to divide the doc I had simply for pacing purposes. It reads better to me at least--that also means next chapter won't take so long to be here ;3 And then I have to decide whether to work on Spectre's chapter or continue with Ryoken for a bit longer cause I have been brainstorming for both !! There's fun(?) times ahead :D 
> 
> As always, Comments/Kudos/Etc. appreciated ! <33

For the next three days, Ryoken’s routine remained the same: catching up on Link VRAINS updates, reading over the news he’d missed and, by lunchtime, going over to Kusanagi’s truck. Occasionally he stayed over to chat or to gaze upon the sea for a brief moment. He still couldn’t bear to watch Stardust Road--hadn’t checked for the phenomena again--but during the day, watching the sea brought him a small sense of comfort.

He looked through his deck now and then, too, and jot down the plays he’d envisioned while imprisoned, rearranging his cards accordingly. Part of him itched to test them out but there was no new enemy on the horizon to fight, nor a worthy opponent to face nearby. Pandor was a skilled duelist but their decks were more compatible used together instead of against each other; he knew her plays--had practically programmed them himself, even if she was adapting them--and she had a database of his own. 

Ryoken wanted to duel someone more _unpredictable_ , someone who could surprise him, but neither of the faces that popped up in his mind were viable options right now. Yusaku was missing in action and Takeru...Ryoken hadn’t contacted him, yet. They hadn’t exactly exchanged numbers.

Even if either of them were around for a duel, without the drive of revenge or and imminent threat in the horizon, would it be the same? Ryoken had never dueled purely for competition, for something as simple as fun.

As he swept through his cards, memories of his duel against Soulburner popped into his head. Taunts and smirks. " _I’m happy you’re facing me seriously.”_ Watching Soulburner’s flame reignite itself, outsmarting Revolver. Soulburner was a formidable opponent, no doubt.

Perhaps that duel was the closest to having fun as Ryoken had had. He wondered if it was the same for Takeru.

Evenings, after dinner, Ryoken dedicated to patrolling, Pandor assisting him from their base or helping him cover more ground (she showed him the D-Board trick Soulburner taught her. It was kind of cool, alright). If not for her, he wouldn’t even pay attention to the time.

Most nights, though, the rest he got was very little, and not from lack of trying. He was either too restless to, feeling he should be doing _something_ , whatever that was, or he woke up on high alert, his heart thundering against his chest.

On the third night since he’d come back, he declared sleep wasn’t going to happen. It was rounding 2 am as he reached for his duel disk and logged into Link VRAINS, ignoring Pandor’s protests.

After sunset, Link VRAINS’s appearance progressively changed: the sky turned darker to match the hour, glowing lights to imitate stars spread across it; the city itself remained illuminated but the lights were dimmer. 

Revolver flew at a relaxed pace above the buildings at first, keeping an eye on his surroundings and the readings on his screen. The early hours of the morning were for the lonely ones, it seemed. The few night owls around weren’t up to anything suspicious as far as he could tell. Some sneaked around buildings but Revolver was pretty sure that the two users he’d spotted close together in an alley weren’t up to anything _harmful_. At least, not to Link VRAINS as a whole. To his retinas, maybe. 

Eventually he stopped to examine one of the many gates that had appeared in the network. It was shut down, at the moment, but he could analyse it. It was fascinating and startling what SOL had accomplished in just a few months. If they could build something like this in such a short time, what else could they do, given more time? 

The sound of another board cutting the air reached his ears, giving him pause.

“Hey, you.” A familiar voice spoke from behind. Revolver’s hand twitched in front of his screen. “What are you doing?”

 _Soulburner._ The corner of Revolver’s mouth curled up; he lowered his hand, closing the log.

“... _Well_?” Soulburner insisted when no reply came. “Who are you?”

A stupid idea formed in Revolver’s head. Before Soulburner could speak again, Revolver tipped his D-Board forwards and sped away. 

“Oy!”

As expected, Soulburner chased after him. Despite the headstart Revolver got, Soulburner was already catching up. Just when he was practically at his heels, Revolver dove down, getting lost among the skyscrapers. 

“Hey, stop!” Soulburner shouted. Revolver tilted his head back just to see his annoyed expression. He smirked before facing forwards again and maneuvering his board through a gap between buildings. 

This little chase couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but there was a rush in Revolver’s veins while it lasted. Twisting, turning, both slicing the wind with their boards. He gained endless amusement from letting Soulburner get just close enough to catch him before he swerved out of his grasp.

However, Soulburner was smarter than that. He chased Revolver into a corner, trapping him in an alley with a dead end. 

“Finally! Now, you’re going to tell me what you were doing by that gate.” Soulburner was glaring when Revolver turned his body sideways. “If you hadn’t run I wouldn’t have considered you _that_ suspicious but you’re clearly up to no good.”

Revolver chuckled.

“Ah, but do you not know that already, Soulburner?” He pulled his hood down, flashing a smile at Soulburner. “I am always up to no good.”

Soulburner’s eyes were comically wide. He blinked once, twice then jabbed a finger at him.

“Revolver?!”

“Soulburner.” 

“Wha--what are you doing here?! No, wait, more importantly when did you get back? And you--” Soulburner said all this as he flew towards him and gestured with his hands, eyes narrowing and widening as he battled between bewilderment and irritation. “You changed your avatar.”

“To answer you.” Revolver lifted a finger for each answer. “I could ask you the same thing. Three days ago. And yes, I did. I do not want anyone to recognize me.” 

Soulburner rolled his eyes. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m patrolling.” Now that he’d come close enough, he slung an arm around Revolver’s neck, trapping him in a headlock. “And you should have told me you got back !”

“Patrolling at 2 am?” Revolver tried to wrestle out of his hold, with little luck. “I do not have your number--while I could have found a way to let you know, I had a feeling we would cross paths again. Was that little chase not entertaining?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And you’re here at this hour too.” Soulburner gave him an exasperated look. “I thought you were a creep trying to mess with Link VRAINS.” He sighed, relaxing his hold. “ _But_ chasing you down must have been the most exciting thing that’s happened to me around here in awhile.”

“Perhaps I am in the same boat as you, Soulburner.” Revolver said. Soulburner’s arm was still around his shoulders, a point of contact that Revolver wasn’t sure what to do about. He didn’t move, save for tilting his head and smirking. “Aren’t you glad I’m back?”

Soulburner huffed, removing his arm only to give Revolver a playful shove. “Maybe.” One corner of his lips was pulled up, amber eyes bright even in the dark alley. “Welcome back you insufferable bastard.”

At any other time, that would have sounded like an insult, but Soulburner’s tone held no venom in it, only fondness. Revolver blinked then ducked his head, hiding a small smile.

“Shall we head out of this dreary alley already?”

Revolver pulled his hood back in place and they flew up, away from the confines of walls, into the dark virtual sky. Wordlessly, they headed for the same sky scrapper, sitting on the edge to observe Link VRAINS.

“So.” Soulburner began. “Tell me the first thing you did when you got back wasn’t work.”

“No. I showered first. Then I worked.” At Soulburner’s unimpressed look, he sighed. “What did you expect?”

“I dunno. A ten hour nap?”

“I slept. Pandor was particularly insistent in me taking breaks and resting.” He said, squinting at Soulburner. “I believe you have had an influence on her.”

Soulburner rubbed his nose and grinned. “A good influence, you mean. I like her.” He said. “Is she out patrolling too?”

“Not right now.” Revolver shook his head. “I merely logged in out of restlessness.”

“Yeah.” Soulburner kicked his feet a little, eyeing Revolver with some concern. “How was it? Coming home.”

Revolver eyed the glowing lights above them. “...Strange.” _Overwhelming._ When he didn’t elaborate further, Soulburner didn’t question him. Instead he shimmied closer, and abruptly snatched the glasses from Revolver’s face. 

“‘Oy.” Revolver reached for his visor, but Soulburner kept them away from him, examining them.

“These are pretty different from what I’d imagine you wearing.” Soulburner put the visor on, blinking. “Haha--” He rested his chin between his thumb and forefinger, flashing Revolver a fake serious look. “Do I look like a nerd?”

 _Cute._ Revolver scowled at the thought. “You look ridiculous. Give those back.”

“What, so it doesn’t look ridiculous when _you_ wear them?” Soulburner shot back, but slid off the visor and handed it back. Revolver, ignoring the comment, put them back on his face; he caught Soulburner staring and then quickly looking away, mumbling loud enough to be heard. “...I guess not.”

“What was that?”

“No.” Soulburner pulled a knee to his chest and rested his chin on it. “It’s nothing.”

There was a lull of silence, the network humming distantly like white noise around them. It wasn’t an oppressive silence, but there was the feeling of many unspoken things, much they could be saying but refrained from, simply sitting next to each other. It wasn’t bad; Revolver found himself oddly calm, content. Was it the late hour, and the little floating lights that decorated the virtual space, or was it Soulburner’s presence and their shared banter? Revolver hadn’t realized how much he had missed that until Soulburner had been right in front of him. 

He’d wanted to see him.

“Don’t you have class, tomorrow?” He asked eventually and Soulburner groaned, burying his face on his knee.

“Yeah...what time is it now?”

Revolver tapped his duel disk, the numbers manifesting above it. “...3.50 am.”

“ _Fuck_ , how is it almost 4 am?” Soulburner dragged a hand up his face, pushing his hair back. “I should try and sleep those two hours before class...Grampa will be on my case for oversleeping again. He’s already pissed about my grades dropping.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah--it’s not that much, mind you!” Soulburner pouted. “But until I get them back up he’s not letting me visit Den City. Says it’s too much of a distraction...how stupid is that?” 

Revolver smirked. “I suppose that coffee will have to wait, then.” He jabbed a finger against Soulburner’s side, earning him a squeak. “Go get some rest. Don’t fall asleep in class.”

“Shut up.” Soulburner swatted his hand. “You should try to sleep, too.”

Revolver sighed. “I suppose.” He had little hope he’d be able to, but he’d also wandered around enough.

“Oh, wait, before you go--” Soulburner said, as they stood. He typed something in his duel disk before sending it over to Revolver’s; when he checked what it was, it was a string of numbers. “That’s my number. You know, to stay in contact or--just talk.” Soulburner scratched the back of his head. “Text me yours so I can add you?”

Revolver nodded. “I will.” 

“Great.” Soulburner grinned, throwing a salute over his shoulder. “See ya, then!”

Soulburner logged out and Revolver did the same, after a beat. He blinked his eyes blearily, meeting the dark ceiling. He took off his Duel Disk, setting it on his bedside table and picked up his phone. After adding Takeru’s phone number on it he sent him a short text. 

> [Ryoken] [4:00 am] This is Ryoken.

The reply was immediate.

> [Takeru] [4:00 am] ryoken who???
> 
> [Ryoken] [4:00 am] Do you know any other Ryokens? 
> 
> [Takeru] [4:01 am] lol just messing with you 
> 
> [Takeru] [4:01 am] i think someone in the class next door was called uuuh….roken, though
> 
> [Takeru] [4:01 am] what if it’s your doppelganger >:O
> 
> [Ryoken] [4:02 am] B^I 
> 
> [Takeru] [4:02 am] >:/c
> 
> [Ryoken] [4:03 am] I highly doubt this individual looks anything remotely like me. 
> 
> [Takeru] [4:03 am] jesus you type like you talk, it’s too late….too early? for this
> 
> [Takeru] [4:04 am] but yeah. not everyone can pull the “dressed like a store mannequin” look quite like you
> 
> [Ryoken] [4:04 am] What does that even mean?
> 
> [Ryoken] [4:04 am] Either way. Go to sleep.
> 
> [Takeru] [4:04 am] lol okay. you too !!!
> 
> [Takeru] [4:05 am] g night
> 
> [Ryoken] [4:05 am] Good night.

Ryoken put his phone down and sighed, closing his eyes.

It took only a couple minutes to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing text messages is so fun btw. Writing these two is so fun UGH I love them a lot and I'm happy to share this fic with everyone. 
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	13. Take a break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoken finally calls Akira. Does some grocery shopping. But normalcy remains out of his grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say this chapter would come soon ;'D
> 
> Another summary for this would be:  
> >Me, at me, writing Ryoken: look what you did. now he has anxiety.  
> >Takeru has a bullshit detector  
> >Ryoken needs a break and therapy
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Etc. always appreciated !! I can't thank everyone that takes a moment to read this fic enough, it means a lot to me!!! :')c

SOL’s CEO looked pleasantly surprised on the other side of Ryoken’s laptop screen. After turning Akira’s offer in his mind, he decided it was time to see what the other wanted.

“I wasn’t expecting you to contact me this early.” Akira said. “When did you get back?”

“About two weeks ago. But I did not call to exchange pleasantries.” Ryoken crossed his arms and leaning back on his chair. “I am more interested in knowing what business you want to do with criminals, Zaizen. Specially one you have had bad experiences with.” _Like hurting your sister?_

Akira shook his head, steppling his fingers together. “I’ve certainly not forgotten what you’ve done, Kogami-kun. The bad, but also the good. I think your heart lies in a different place, now.” Ryoken was startled by the honest emotion in the other man’s eyes. “I believe we could benefit from each other, working together.”

“Oh? What makes you think I would gain anything from this?”

“It has not escaped my radar that Soulburner has been patrolling Link VRAINS alongside your AI. Or, as of late, with someone new.”Akira smiled. “You make sure to delete all your logs but security footage remains. I don’t think it’s too bold of me to assume that Revolver has returned to the network.”

Credit had to be given when it was due. Ryoken’s attempts at a disguise would fool the common eye but not SOL’s CEO, it seemed. Which meant he knew Ryoken had been back, so his earlier surprise made no sense.

“I haven’t ascertained the reason for your patrols, yet.” Akira continued, fixing a stack of papers by his desk. “I can only assume it has to do with Playmaker, who’s been missing for four months now. You two are not the only ones awaiting his return.”

Playmaker came as a topic of conversation between Soulburner and him often, the more his absence stretched. Although neither said anything, both were hoping to stumble upon a clue of his whereabouts too.

“And so?” Ryoken arched an eyebrow. “Where are you going with this?”

“So.” Akira put his hands atop the wood, palms up. “If you work for SOL Technologies, you will have further aid in monitoring the network and you could be working with and accessing Link VRAINS directly.” He intertwined his fingers again, staring down at them.

“As for the company and myself, despite how renowned our security is, it has been breached in the past. We cannot allow such incidents to happen again. With Link VRAINS growth we need stronger measures and we must continue innovating.” He looked back up. “I believe with your knowledge, that could be possible. You would be an asset to us.”

Ryoken was quiet, taking in Akira’s words. It was logical. It would certainly be beneficial, given his own goal to keep Link VRAINS safe. And yet…

“You would really hire the son of the man that is giving your company such a bad reputation right now?"

"You’re not your father"

Ryoken pressed his lips together. Akira kept going.

“You would not have confessed on live television if you didn’t regret your actions. I think we have all done things we wish we could take back. And I think if anyone deserves a second chance...it’d be you.”

Ryoken’s hand gripped his pant leg, grinning without humor. “Hmph. You’ve grown soft, Zaizen.”

“Maybe.” Akira shook his head. “I will not force you, Kogami-kun. I was expecting your reply two months from now, later even, so please...take time to consider it. I would like to work together with you in the future.”

“...We will see.”

The call cut short after wards. 

A second chance. Ryoken scoffed; _what a joke._

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

No matter how good Kusanagi’s hot dogs were, Ryoken couldn’t just live off of them, and he was running out of other supplies. It was about time he went out into the city to buy some basic, essential things.

Bustling with people, big screens showing images of Link VRAINS and other news, Den City had changed little after months. Not wanting to be recognized, Ryoken was donning a cap, a pair of sunglasses and his only other blazer, darker in color. Not an elaborate disguise, but it’d do the trick.

The Knights or Spectre had always taken care of grocery shopping so Ryoken was out of his depth in the first market he’d walked into. There was such a wide and different selection of brands and items, he reckoned he should have made a list of things he needed before leaving the house.

Nothing costed what he thought they would, either; his concept of money might have been _slightly_ off. Slightly: he’d given Spectre ¥10.000 just to buy some rice before. They would have had enough to last them a whole month.

Venturing into the instant foods aisle, there was some variety to choose from: ramen, yakisoba, miso soup...and it was so _cheap_! 

He stared between two brands of ramen, frowning. These were choices he hadn’t been prepared to make.

He fished out his phone.

> [Ryoken 10:00 AM] Takeru. I require your assistance.
> 
> [Ryoken 10:oo AM] [Image.jpg] ?

It was only after he sent it that he realized Takeru was in class and probably wouldn’t check his phone. 

A finger tapping on the container he held on his right made him jump, turning to find a cheerful looking young man beside him.

“Get that one.” He said, as he grabbed one for himself and put it in his cart. “Comes with more noodles.”

Ryoken blinked behind his glasses. “Oh. Thank...you.”

The man was already moving on with his own shopping. It took a moment for Ryoken’s shoulders to relax but his pulse had quickened. The man was just trying to help. 

_He doesn’t know who you are._

Ryoken shook his head and dropped a couple more instant ramens in his cart, as well as a few more assorted instant foods. He wandered through the aisles for other things he needed--toiletries, for the most part--before hurrying to a line. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

> [Takeru] [10:30 AM] the one on the right !!! has more noodles !! >8O
> 
> [Ryoken] [10:30 AM] Yes, I got that one. A man pointed that out to me, as well.
> 
> [Ryoken] [10:31 AM] Aren’t you supposed to be in class? 
> 
> [Takeru] [10:33 AM] yeah but it’s math class it’s boring as fuck
> 
> [Takeru] [10:33 AM] glad to see you’re finally going grocery shopping but uh
> 
> [Takeru] [10:34 AM] please tell me ramen isn’t all you bought
> 
> [Ryoken] [10:35 AM] No. There’s Yakisoba too.
> 
> [Takeru] [10:36 AM] 8/ is it all instant
> 
> [Ryoken] [10:36 AM] Yes?
> 
> [Takeru] [10:36 AM] god GET ACTUAL FOOD
> 
> [Ryoken] [10:37 AM] This is food?
> 
> [Takeru] [10:37 AM] you can’t live off instant food and hot dogs ryoken
> 
> [Ryoken] [10:37 AM] Watch me.
> 
> [Takeru] [10:37 AM] >8I 

Ryoken could almost picture Takeru’s exasperated frown. _Hah_.

A woman in front of him kept glancing at him every now and then. Ryoken avoided her stare, uncomfortable with the attention, but then she spoke up.

“Hey, aren’t you that--” Ryoken tensed.“--model?”

“...Eh?”

She squinted, openly looking him him an up and down.

“Ah, no, you’re not...you just looked a lot like a model from a magazine I read.” She chuckled behind her hand. “Sorry! You look so mysterious in your get up, I thought you were him.”

“It is...alright.” He muttered, clearing his throat. That should have been the end of it but the woman was friendly and chatty, trying to rope him into further conversation.

“I must say, though, with how tall you are, you _could_ be a model!”

“I am not.”

“A shame. Young men should really put their good looks to use.” She laughed again, advancing along with the line. “Why are you wearing a hat and glasses inside anyways? Sure you’re not some celebrity, hm?”

“I am not.” He insisted, fixing his sunglasses. “I just...have eye allergies.” He lied. “It is pretty bad right now, with springtime.” 

“Oh, dear ! You should use some tea compresses for that.” She waved her hand around. “One of my kids gets really bad allergies around this time too, he sneezes up a storm! He uses more tissues than me when I watch that soap opera...you know, the one with that new, handsome actor and the actress from--”

Ryoken tunned her out, nodding along and humming when needed. 

“...But my eldest daughter moved to another city last spring and I--oh dear!” She cut herself off, pressing her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I must be boring you to death.”

“It’s alright.” Ryoken rolled the cuffs of his blazer. Was the line still going? “...So you have a daughter too?”

“Yes, and two younger sons.” Her face lit up again. “They’re little rascals, those two. Always getting in trouble...it wasn’t that bad when my eldest was around. I think they miss their big sister, you know?” 

Ryoken didn’t have siblings. The warmth that this woman spoke with about her family was foreign to him.

“Oh, dear, I almost held up the line, I’m so sorry--”

It was finally her time to pay. She apologized to the cashier, putting her groceries into the conveyor belt. She was buying enough to feed a small army.

“That’s a lot…” The comment slipped out of him and she laughed as she rummaged through her purse.

“Yep! My kids and my husband rake up an appetite--oh.” She frowned.“I...where’s my wallet…?”

She desperately searched for it in her handbag, clearly without luck. The cashier’s face was impassive--probably used to this--but someone behind Ryoken groaned impatiently. 

“Ma’am, if you can’t pay...” The cashier was saying, just as Ryoken pulled out his wallet.

“How much?”

The woman waved her hands at him in embarrassment.

“Oh, I can’t possibly let you...”  
“It is no trouble.” He said. The cashier showed him the total and he pulled three ¥10.000 bills, sliding them over to them. “I have enough for my things, as well.” Both the cashier and the woman stared at him a little baffled, but the cashier accepted the payment .

“Would you like to, um, pay for your groceries as well, sir?” The cashier asked, eyeing his shopping cart. “Before I give you your change…”

“Oh. Sure.”

Even after ringing Ryoken’s items, the cashier handed him a handful of cash back with his receipt, which Ryoken put back into his wallet. He gathered up his grocery bags.

“Thank you, have a nice day!” 

The mini-market’s automatic doors closed with a ding behind Ryoken and the woman as they stepped together into the crowded street. She was still apologizing, bowing her head.

“This isn’t the first time it happened.” She leaned her cheek on her palm, bag dangling from her arm. “I have forgotten my wallet before and had to rush all the way back home…” She finally smiled up at him. “You were a lifesaver, I cannot thank you enough. But I still feel bad…”

“Really, it was no trouble at all.” Ryoken said, fiddling with his cap. “It is about time I leave.”

“Ah, wait! Do you live far from here? I could give you the money back…”

“There is no need--”

“Coming through!”

Someone came barreling through the crowd on their bicycle. The woman managed to take a step back before they ran her over but Ryoken wasn’t as fast; he got pushed back, falling flat on his butt.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry!”

Ryoken groaned, glaring after the retreating bicycle.

“Dear, are you alright?” The woman offered him a hand but Ryoken was already standing up, picking up his bags that had fallen beside him.

“I’m fine. I should go.”

“Ah, wait, you dropped this.” The woman bent down and Ryoken’s heart stopped when she picked up his glasses and cap. She glanced up. “Here--” 

Their eyes met and everything froze for a moment. She blinked slowly and then her eyes widened.

“Oh. I know who you are.”

Breath hitching, Ryoken snatched the items from her hands and fled without a glance back, ignoring her shouting after him.

Even when he slipped the glasses back on and adjusted the cap over his hair, it was too late. Every eye of the city was set on him.

_She knew who you are._

Pulse racing, palms sweating, Ryoken didn’t quite run but he pushed past passersby without looking. 

It was fine. That had only been _one_ person who recognized him. 

_If she knows, they know._

The back of his neck tingled as though he was being watched. No, it was fine. It was fine. 

_Everyone knows who you are. You made sure of it._

Nausea settled in, a cold feeling at the pit of his stomach. Two thoughts crashed into each other at the same time:

_Everyone can see you._

_Breath you fucking idiot._

Dazed and on shaky legs, Ryoken managed to make it out of the busy streets. There was more room to fill his lungs with air, even if his throat burned as he inhaled sharply. He had to get home. Walk, move, _move_.

The nausea had mostly faded by the time he could see the mansion in the distance and Kusanagi’s truck nearby. The man was there, flipping sausages despite the lack of clients around. The sun was higher in the sky.

“Oh, hey, you’re back--” Kusanagi greeted him when he walked by but he stopped. “Ryoken. Are you okay?”

“Hm?”

Kusanagi exited his truck, coming to stand in front of him. He grabbed onto Ryoken’s shoulders at the exact moment his knees gave out.

“Hey, hey.” Kusanagi shook him a little. “Are you with me? Here, sit down--”

Ryoken fell onto the chair Kusanagi pulled out for him, letting his bags rest on the floor between his legs. 

“Thank you.” He said on automatic. He removed his cap, letting the wind ruffle his hair and cool the back of his neck. “I’m fine.”

“No offense but you look pale, like you're about to pass out.” When he looked up, Kusanagi stare was concerned, in contrast to his grin. “You want some coffee?”

Ryoken nodded wordlessly. While Kusanagi went back to the truck, he sagged back onto the chair, taking off his sunglasses and running a hand over his eyes. The sweat cooling on his skin was starting to feel gross and he was embarrassed about his earlier, momentary anxiety. Stupid.

Kusanagi came back and placed a mug in front of him. Ryoken wrapped his hands around it, warmth seeping into his palms.

“Thank you, Kusanagi-san.”

“No problem.” Kusanagi sat on the chair opposite him. He watched Ryoken while he took careful sips of his drink. “...So, I take going back into the city wasn’t the best experience?”

Heat rose to Ryoken’s face. He didn’t want to admit he’d been so easily frazzled. He frowned, staring to the side and hiding behind another gulp of coffee.

“I’m not judging you.” Kusanagi added quickly. “Crowds can be pretty overwhelming. Jin--well, when he was released and we took a trip into the city center, it was not a good time. School’s been helping him adjust but...y’know.” He scratched the back of his head. “Don’t feel bad. You didn’t get back that long ago.”

Kusanagi was attempting to comfort him. Ryoken’s pride wanted to fight against it. He wasn’t a child. He could handle himself and a city full of people. 

In the end he didn’t offer a reply, finishing his coffee in silence. Kusanagi refused payment for it but Ryoken didn’t miss the worried look he sent his way before he left. 

By the time he made it to the mansion, he unceremoniously dropped his bags by the entrance. It was only noon but instead of eating he took a shower, forgone drying his hair and passed out on his arm chair. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours as there was still light outside when he awoke. 

He had a couple missed texts from Takeru on his phone.

> [Takeru] [10:55 PM] i got caught texting -_-’’’ 
> 
> [Takeru] [01:00PM] [actuallunch.jpg] 
> 
> [Takeru] [01:30PM] also did you get lost and are now aimlessly wandering some mini market
> 
> [Takeru] [01:31PM] ahem, yes, hi, there is a lost, tall child on aisle six, can his AI come pick him up
> 
> [Takeru] [01:40PM] okay sorry, just give me a sign of life dude 
> 
> [Ryoken] [04:45PM] Sign.
> 
> [Takeru] [04:46PM] welcome back to the land of the living !! i was joking about you being lost before btw but did you?
> 
> [Ryoken] [04:47PM] No. A woman engaged me in conversation on the line to pay. And as soon as I got home, I fell asleep.
> 
> [Takeru] [04:48PM] lol, did socializing exhaust you?
> 
> [Ryoken] [04:50PM] She knew who I was.
> 
> [Takeru] [04:50PM] oh. did she say anything to you? are you okay?
> 
> [Ryoken] [04:52PM] I did not stay long enough to let her.
> 
> [Ryoken] [04:52PM] I’m fine.
> 
> [Takeru] [04:53PM] hmmm
> 
> [Takeru] [04:53PM] my bullshit detector is beeping

Despite himself, Ryoken snorted.

> [Ryoken] [04:54PM] That is a faulty detector. I’m fine.
> 
> [Takeru] [04:55PM] why don’t i believe you? but fine. i won’t keep asking right now
> 
> [Takeru] [04:56PM] make sure you eat one of those instant whatevers you bought at least
> 
> [Ryoken] [04:58PM] Sure.

He didn’t have a large appetite despite the hour but something made him listen to Takeru. Forcing himself to rise from the armchair, Ryoken gathered his groceries and finally brought them to the kitchen. 

Instant food wasn’t anything to sing praises about but he’d make what he bought last.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

So.

He didn’t really go out much after that. 

The days passed, in a monotony all too similar as the one in jail; his patrols with Soulburner continued to be something he could look forward too, or his chats with Kusanagi when he actually bothered to go out.

“Ryoken-sama, you should get up for breakfast.” Pandor’s voice had been chiding, the first few days, but it had grown softer by now. If not for her, Ryoken would have probably not moved from his spot on the bed. Some days, he found he couldn’t, despite Pandor talking to him.

Instead of settling back into normalcy, it was as if everyday he was slowly sinking on murky terrain, struggling to move. He’d always pressed on, why was it so hard this time around?

He held up the card Doctor Amano had given him, twisted it in his hand as he laid in bed. This sounded like her area of expertise. 

_“If you ever wish to talk more, give that number a call.”_

Ryoken considered it. Stared at the jasmine flower on the corner of the paper until his eyes went out of focus. 

It wasn’t so much that his pride was stopping him this time from accepting help.

_You don’t really deserve it, do you._

Ryoken set the card back on his wallet and threw a hand over his eyes, sighing. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

“Are you okay?”

Soulburner’s question made Revolver break out of his thoughts. They were flying above the buildings of Link VRAINS at a relaxed pace, like many other sleepless nights, watching the lights twinkle. A passing wind rustled their hair. 

Revolver side eyed Soulburner.

“What do you mean?”He asked. “I’m alright.”

Soulburner frowned. “Kusanagi-san said he hasn’t seen you go out much. Or that you look like crap the few times he does.”

“I’ve been busy.” Ryoken scoffed. He sped up, past Soulburner.

“Have you done _anything_ aside from patrolling?” At Revolver’s silence, Soulburner groaned. “Dude!”

“So?” Revolver turned away. “There is little else for me to do. And I don’t believe it’s any of your concern what I do with my free time.”

Silence. Then, Soulburner’s D-Board shot forwards, stepping in his way. Clicking his tongue, Revolver moved around him only for Soulburner to follow. 

After a series of back and forths like this, eventually, Soulburner caught him against the side of a building and snatched Revolver’s visor. Revolver glared irritably at him but Soulburner’s gaze was steady.

“This already came off once.” Soulburner said, softly, waving the visor around. “You don’t have to keep hiding behind it. Not with me.”

Revolver searched Soulburner’s face for--anything. Anything that wasn’t this form of quiet understanding the other was offering him. His hand curled into a fist and he directed his frown at the space between them, leaning his back against the building behind him.

“What do you want me to say? I have nothing else to do. That is the truth.” He paused. “...Nothing I want to do, either.” He sighed, straightening his back, trying to gain a semblance of composure. “That is perhaps most stressful of all. Not seeing anything ahead of me.” 

“Didn’t Akira-san offer you a job? You said so the other day.” Soulburner asked, fiddling with the visor in his hand. “That seems like a good starting point.”

“For any other person, perhaps. Getting a job at such a esteemed company would assure anyone a future. But I cannot see it that way.” He smiled ironically. “What am I supposed to do with a future I didn’t ask for? What comes after?” 

He stared down at his gloves. “If everything had gone according to plan, I would not even be here today, talking to you. But Playmaker changed that.” He rose his head slowly, meeting Soulburner’s eyes. Amber, warm, staring back without pity. 

Their boards knocked when Revolver moved closer. Soulburner let him take visor back, their fingers brushing as he did.

“ _You_ changed that.”

Soulburner shook his head. “You’re the one that’s changing.” 

“Am I?” Revolver eyes flickered downwards. He didn’t put his visor back on yet. There was no need, when Soulburner had peered behind the mask. 

“I wanted to make things right. I wanted that to be the end of it.” Revolver flew around Soulburner, knowing he’d follow. “Yet, another chapter has begun and the words are arranged like a puzzle rather than a sentence, with no shape or direction. My mind is at a constant battle with itself...or rather, with me.”

Soulburner was quiet, beside him, flying closer than before. Their shoulders bumped together.

“You sound like you could use a vacation.”

Revolver snorted at the change in subject. “I have had enough time off with my imprisonment.”

“That doesn’t count as a vacation. You haven’t even got a chance to relax and process shit after everything that happened to you.” Soulburner pocked the center of his forehead, smiling when Revolver’s eyes widened. “Though, I doubt you have ever relaxed a day in your life.”

Revolver hmphed, crossing his arms. He couldn’t deny that.

“...Say.” Soulburner began, fidgeting. Revolver observed him curiously until Soulburner looked back up at him, eyes bright and determined.

“Do you want to come to my hometown?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops, cliffhanger (?)
> 
> \--  
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	14. "Did you get rejected?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Ryoken back, things should have been different, but Spectre's reality remains the same. Or, mostly the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a while to figure out but that seems to be a common thread with Spectre chapters. Once I find the thread, it's all good xD
> 
> Also! Virtual classes start for me next week, so I don't know how much time I'll get for writing :'') Ryoken's chapter is mostly done, so I hope to get it done before I get too busy. RIGHT WHEN THE GOOD STUFF IS COMING, STUDY CALLS (tho I am excited for my classes, I'm starting a music career!! HYPE). But yeah, I've been updating monthly for the most part but if it takes a little longer for that to happen in the coming months...imagine I am buried in classwork _:'3/_
> 
> Oh, and I thought, why not, if anyone has questions about this fic (or others!) or just wants to hop in and say hi, [ I'll drop my Curious Cat here!](https://curiouscat.qa/moonmowon) I always forget I have it haha ^^'
> 
> As always, thank you for all your comments, kudos, hits etc., and to the ppl that let me gush to them about this fic or gush along with me <3 It keeps my excitement for this story alive!

“Did you get rejected?”

Jin’s voice jolted Spectre out of his thoughts, fingers dropping the page he’d been reading. Pretending to read, rather; he’d absorbed nothing for the past five minutes. 

Glancing at Jin, he had his gaze fixed on his own book.

“What?” Spectre asked.

“Ever since you got that call from your liege the other day you’ve been spacing out.” Jin looked up at Spectre through his bangs. “Did he reject you?”

The heat rising to his ears, Spectre turned away.

“Ryoken-sama and me don’t have that sort of relationship, if that is your question.” 

“Ah, true.” The sound of a page turning and scribbling on paper. “You’re his right hand man. Or _were_ , I guess.”

“I still am.”

“Really?” Jin drummed his pencil on the edge of his desk. Few people were around in the classroom during lunch-break, so he didn’t have to speak above a whisper to be heard. “But he’s not a cyber-terrorist anymore, right? And I don’t think you’ve even gone to see him.”

“That is _none_ of your concern.” 

“...I guess.” With a shrug, Jin dropped the subject. “Oh, Miyu-san wanted to get together to study after school. Is that okay?”

Spectre sighed. “Do I have a choice?” Knowing Miyu, she’d be on him the moment the bell rang to drag him along. 

“I’ll get you an extra cup of coffee for your troubles.” Jin patted the page of his book in consolation. He eyed it, after. “By the way, what have you been reading?”

“Herbal medicine.” Spectre tilted the book so Jin could see the pictures. 

“Many plants can be used to create drugs, whether it’s medicine…” A smirk. “...or a lethal poison.”

“I had a feeling you’d be into the latter.” Rather than be freaked out, Jin leaned closer, looking back up. “Who’s your victim?”

Their eyes met. Spectre’s creased with mirth, resting his chin on his fist. “Be careful the next time you drink something, Kusanagi-san.”

Jin mirrored Spectre’s pose. “I’ll make sure to leave a dying note on me assigning you as my killer, then.”

“Who says they’ll find your body?”

A beat or two passed before Jin snorted, hiding his laugh behind a hand. He shook his head, sitting back upright.

“I won’t accept any drinks from you any time soon.” 

“A wise choice.”

Jin turned back to his book, shaking his head. He traced the edge of the page.

“Coincidently, the novel I’m reading is about a poisoning case.”

“Ah, a mystery novel?”

“Yeah. The killer presumably slipped the poison in the tea...but the main suspect is clearly innocent.” Jin lifted a finger. “Despite having ample motives for it, it’d be too easy if it was him. The novel would be over. But I already know what the real killer did, and how.”

Jin intertwined his fingers, resting his chin atop them and said nothing more. Spectre frowned.

“Well? How?”

“There’s a copy of the book in the library.” The bell rang then and Jin bookmarked the page he was in, shutting the book. He showed the cover to Spectre. “Read to find out, if you want.”

“Hmph.” Spectre shut his book, too, and placed it back on his bag. “I’ll think about it.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Things should have been different, with Ryoken back. Yet nothing had changed; going to school, studying, watering the plants. Deal with Miyu’s nonsense. That had become _the usual_.

Except that today there was a new addition to their study table at Cafe Nagi’s.

Aoi and Spectre glared at each other, with matching levels of irritation. 

“Oof, what tension!” Miyu, sunny as ever, was amused by all this. “Aoi-chan, I’ve never seen that death glare before!”

At this, Aoi blinked, turning her attention to Miyu. “Ah. Sorry, Miyu-chan…”

“No, no.” Miyu smiled back. “Even when you’re mad, you’re cute.”

Aoi blushed, but then threw Spectre another look.

“Just so you know. I’m only here because Miyu-chan asked me to.”

“Noted.” Spectre yawned behind his hand. “Will I have to explain basic arithmetic to you a well?”

“No. I’m here to help, too.” Aoi lifted her chin. “With more tact than you have on a good day.”

“Tact or not, I made that idiot pass her exams last time.” He pointed at Miyu with a thumb. “But perhaps I should thank you for lightening the load.”

Aoi looked ready to argue back but Miyu clapped her hands.

“You two! I get you don’t like each other but! I need all my smart friends to come together! We have exams coming up again and I want all of us to pass. And that’s because--” Her eyes sparkled as she banged her hands on the table and stood. “Of the school trip! To the beach!” 

“Yay.” Jin deadpanned. “Summer.”

“That’s right, Jin-chan!” She held a fist up. “Next month! Summer! The sea! It’s like a peaking moment of our high school years!”

“You consider that...a peak?” Spectre arched an eyebrow while he organized his notes. “So it is all downhill from there?”

“Spe-chan, you’ve never been on a school trip, right?” She leaned over the table to him. “Trust me, it’ll be awesome! It’s the ideal time to build some memories.”

“Who says I’ll go?”

It was almost fascinating how Miyu’s face could morph from bright excitement to pouting in disappointment. 

“You _have_ to come! Everyone in the class must go.”

“Hmph. I think it’s a waste of time.”

“Let him, Miyu-chan,” Aoi said, shrugging. “The fun of us common mortals must be too much for him.”

While he got a feeling Aoi was mocking him, Spectre couldn’t find an argument to refute her. What was the point of going? Building memories with his class was far from something he wanted.

“Come on.” Aoi patted Miyu’s arm. “We were here to study, right?”

Miyu was still pouting at Spectre but she sighed and plopped down on her chair, pulling out her worksheets without protest. She was surprisingly more subdued when Aoi was here--well, as subdued as Miyu could be.

If there was one good thing about having Aoi around is that Miyu’s focus was settled more on her than Spectre. Studying with Jin was a quieter and easier effort.

“You should come.” Jin muttered, at one point, when Miyu was too busy talking with Aoi to hear him. “Don’t leave me alone with Miyu-san.”

Spectre snorted. 

“Ah, is there trouble in your friendship?”

“No. But.” Jin tapped his pen to his lips. “Souvenirs. Won’t your liege want one?”

Spectre hadn’t even considered that. Neither him or Ryoken had ever got the chance to go to school and experience this sort of thing. Would Ryoken even care about such a small thing, though? He patted his phone on his pocket.

“You should ask him.”

Spectre frowned, shaking his head.

“Later.”

When Jin had said Spectre hadn’t seen Ryoken yet, he’d been right; they hadn’t had much further contact since that phone call some time ago. Whenever he wanted to, Spectre hesitated.

 _Ryoken doesn’t need you anymore_. 

That thought froze him in place every time.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

… … … …

…But maybe he _should_ message him.

 _It would only be polite to ask, right?_ Spectre glared daggers at his phone. Even if he didn’t require Spectre’s assistance...Spectre wanted--needed--to make sure he was fairing alright. As his right hand man, of course. Ryoken had a habit of overworking himself. 

“Spe-chan, you might really stab your phone with that glare of yours.”

Irritated, he turned his glare on Miyu, who stood in front of his desk. Classes were over, but they weren’t getting together to study today--Aoi and Jin had something to do. That something, on Jin’s part, probably being a nap, considering how tired he’d looked through the day. Spectre ignored the fact he’d taken the time to notice.

Miyu smiled.

“What’s wrong? Phone call anxiety?”

“No.”

“Got a threatening message?”

“No.”

“Hmm, since it’s you...” Miyu tapped her bottom lip. “This must be about your dear Ryoken-sama--oh!” She gasped, leaning forwards. “Did you get rejected?”

“Why do you and Kusanagi-san think so?” He said, pushing her away. “It’s not like that--”

“But since that phone call you seem down.” She planted her hands on his desk. “What happened?”

“It is none of your business.”  
That usually would leave things settled. But not this time.

“Hey, Spe-chan. Do you want to play a little game?”

Spectre stared at her.

“...What game?” 

“A truth for truth game. I ask you a question, then you get to ask me whatever you want, too. No lying.”

“Hah. You assume there’s anything I want to know about you.” 

“I think there is.” She bounced back, settling her hands behind her back. “You’ve been rather transparent about it. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could understand each other a little better?”

Something he wanted to know about her. She _was_ puzzling to him. Now that he remembered she’d been part of the Lost Incident, too, some things about her made him _wonder._..was what she presented to other’s everything she was? _(People are double faced and Miyu is no exception.)_

There was a question he’d asked her before, and her answer had far from satisfied him. 

“...Very well. But I get to ask first.”

“Great!” Miyu beamed. “Then, what say we go somewhere nicer to talk? I got a place in mind I think you’ll like.”

Against his better judgement, he followed her. With the warmer seasons, the days got longer, so there was still daylight outside as they crossed through the city. 

Spectre was no fan of crowds. Miyu seemed right at home; she slipped between people, or side stepped street signs as though navigating water. He found himself trailing behind her to avoid other passersby.

They ended up at a park; it was large, the few people around spread out through it. 

“Why here?” He asked.

“It’s a nice place for a stroll.” Miyu said. “I thought it was about time I took you on a walk. Too bad I don’t have a leash.”

Spectre’s eye twitched. 

“I am not a dog.”

“Sure.” She was smirking though. “Anyways, go on. Ask away!”

He kept his distance, as they walked through a sinuous path cutting through the grass. He eyed her out of the corner of his eye. _Truth for truth._

“I have asked you before, but given that everything seems to be a joke to you, I did not take you seriously.” He began. “...What do you want with me? Or rather--why bother, when I have clearly stated my dislike of you several times?”

“Just wanting to be friends is not enough a reason for you, hm?” She didn’t seem taken aback. She turned her gaze skyward, quiet, her school bag dangling from one hand. “Let’s see--why do you think people seek other people?”

“I thought I was getting _answers_ , not more questions.”

“Indulge me.”

Spectre sighed. A group of kids were playing in the grass to their left, yelling at each other; two women sat on a bench, talking among themselves; a dog barked further away while someone called out to it. 

“...It is said humans are social creatures, and cannot stand being on their own. I don’t agree, as often people do more harm than good to others.” He crossed his arms, kicking a pebble on the way. “Society is rotten. There are few individuals worth redeeming.”

“I’m not surprised you think that.” Miyu said. “And I kind of agree. People often hurt each other--for petty reasons, or worse.” 

They were rounding a small lake, trees at either side of it. Miyu scanned the ground before scooping up a stone. She stuck out her tongue as she chucked it at the water’s surface.

“Greedy. Selfish. Self-centered.” The stone sank after only two skips. “One could say people seek others so they can use each other. Convenience.”

 _In the end it’s convenient, right?_ Jin had said something like that, too, when they started studying together. Spectre had almost forgotten that deal--the reason he kept seeing so much of Jin and Miyu.

“I meant it, when I say I want us to be friends.” Miyu picked up another stone but merely tossed it up in the air a few times. “And the reason is very, very simple.” She caught the stone stared it, lips curled up. “It’s _fun_.”

His brow furrowed. 

“Of course mocking me is fun to _you_ \--”

“No, no! I mean your reactions _are_ funny but--I said it before, right?” Miyu turned, walking until she was standing in front of him. “You’re refreshing to be around, Spe-chan. You always have a comeback ready. You’re kinda weird, too, but most importantly…” She pressed her fingers to his chest, pushing lightly. “You’re _entertaining_ to me. So I want to keep you around.”

Oh. _Oh_ , he got it now. He smiled crookedly.

“Ah, so that’s it. Self-satisfaction?”

“That’s really what life is about! I want to surround myself with all kinds of people, and have fun while it lasts. It just so happens you’re one of those people.”

The sun starting to descend behind the trees cast odd shadows in her face. When she reached for his wrist, dropping the stone on his open palm, he didn’t stop her. 

She stepped back, tilting her head. 

“...Was that the answer you wanted?”

It was. It _should_ be. The other face to her, the justification he’d searched for. 

Was it the full truth? Even now, her sunny disposition hadn’t fallen--maybe everything really _was_ a joke to Miyu. People, simply something to keep around while it held her amusement.

“So then…” He eyed the stone on his hand, tested the weight of it. “...people are of little regard to you?” 

When they were kids--the rare instances they were allowed to be--Ryoken and he would attempt to skip stones on the shore, on days the water was calm. Out of nostalgia, perhaps, he walked closer to the water’s edge and brought his arm back, as he asked:

“Is that the base of your so-called friendship?”

The stone sunk the second he threw it. Miyu laughed behind him and Spectre’s cheeks burned despite himself, frowning. _Dammit._

“I wouldn’t say that.” She replied once her laughter died down, standing beside him. “My friends are my friends, and I care for them. But how do I put it…” Fingers drummed over her cheek. A careful, calculating look crossed over her eyes. “...aren’t we still using each other as not to end up alone, in the end?” She nodded. “It’s basic survival instincts.”

A stronger wind built up, suddenly, sending leaves dancing into the air; Miyu’s hair flew over her face and whatever had taken over her gaze disappeared as she spluttered.

Spectre laughed at her. 

Weird. Miyu Sugisaki was weird. Persistent and annoying. Ridiculous.

But perhaps, he had underestimated her; perhaps, there was a small something about her he could comprehend.

“I wish you’d laugh more at my jokes than at me.” She puffed her cheeks as she brushed her hair back, pulling it into a ponytail with the pink scrunchie at her wrist. 

“A laugh for a laugh.”

“And a truth for a truth!” She said. “Do I get my question now?” 

Right. That’d been the agreement. He sighed.

“Fine.”

Instead of asking right away, Miyu turned on her heel and beckoned him with a hand.

“I’ll show that spot I mentioned first.”

Following the delimited path, past a short line of trees, the dirt turned back to concrete and they faced a set of stairs. Miyu went up two steps at a time and made it up before him.

“C’mon slowpoke!”

That only made Spectre roll his eyes, not bothering to hurry up.

The sweet perfume invaded his nose before he saw them; making it all the way up, a look-out spot opened before him. Flowers lined the sides and arranged in a circle in the middle, swaying gently with the wind; the walls were crawling with ivies, but they looked neat and cared for. A veranda encircled the area, the city bustling down below in the distance. It was, surprisingly, empty.

“Soooo?” Miyu hopped backwards and twirled, stretching out her arms. “Great spot, isn't it?”

Clearing his throat, Spectre shrugged one shoulder. 

“I suppose.”

“That’s the most positive reaction I’ve got out of you, yet.” She giggled, walking between colorful rows. “The plants here are very well cared for. I thought you’d appreciate that.”

Spectre brushed his fingers against a peony, as he passed it. It was rich in color, and the dirt looked recently watered. He didn’t know this place even existed. 

Of course Miyu would pick it, though. He softened when he was surrounded by nature. He felt more in his element, away from the noise from everyday life. 

When he looked up, Miyu was leaning her back against the railing. “So...what happened with your Ryoken-sama?” She asked, right to the point. “I expected to see you run off to see him after you got that call but you looked like a kicked puppy instead.”

He scoffed at the comparison, turning his gaze back to the flowers. 

It was easier to confide in them than a person. They didn’t judge. They just listened. Miyu, on the other hand, was a chatterbox with no filter, with a teasing remark at the ready. This would be amusing to her.

He should lie. Instead, he offered the basic truth.

“He has returned but informed me my assistance would not be required. That’s it.”

“But there’s more.” It wasn’t a question.

He looked up at her.

“If that was all, you could have still gone to see him. He’s important to you, right?” Miyu stretched her arms in front of her. “You wouldn’t try to choke one of our classmates for bad mouthing him otherwise.”

Spectre snorted. 

“As I have told you, I hold a great respect for Ryoken-sama. Those who don’t know him don’t have a right to utter a bad word about him.” He paused, examining a blue tulip. “...I did not go see him upon his request. While I couldn’t care less, he doesn't want his current reputation to suly mine.” 

“Sounds like he’s looking after you.”

For a moment, that thought warmed his chest. Spectre had seen how ruthless Ryoken could be, as a leader, but also how gentle. That was where they’d always be different; at his core, Ryoken cared far more than he let on, more than Ryoken himself believed. So not wanting to involve Spectre any further was, most likely, for his sake.

Yet, there was a much persistent thought that took over.

_He doesn’t need me. He’s telling me I’m not useful anymore._

Ryoken had changed, after the Tower, after the fight with Lightning--after his duel with Soulburner. He was moving forwards. Spectre wasn’t. He had always thought that, for Ryoken, he would be the most rotten person in existence if need be. That’s all his future consisted of. But now...

“He doesn’t let me look after him.”

The words left his mouth but he didn’t register them until Miyu replied.

“Why don’t you just go see him, then? Or do you just do _whatever_ he tells you to, Spe-chan?” Miyu tapped her cheek. “If you’re worried about him, it’s only fair you check up on him!”

“He doesn’t _want_ me there.” He bit out with frustration, and it was startling to realize it wasn’t directed at her. “He made that clear.”

“Listen here.” She detached herself from the railing, hands going to her hips. “Sometimes, you have to meddle, for the people you care about. That’s what being friends is about.”

“Ryoken-sama and me aren’t friends.” He’d explained this already. “It’s--”

“Then change that!”

.. _.Huh?_ Spectre blinked slowly.

The sky was turning orange behind her, the sun barely peeking between buildings; the light made Miyu’s hair look almost red. 

“If being his right hand man isn’t enough for you to butt in when your leader needs you--become his friend!” Miyu declared, pointing at him, with that dramatic flair of hers. “Then you can stand up to him and snap some sense into his head!” She grinned, all teeth. “Like I’m doing now with you.”

Ridiculous. The idea was stupid, just like her. 

Ryoken was his savior. The person that gave his life a purpose when he had none. As if Spectre could _dream_ they’d be friends, standing on the same ground; being his right hand, his shadow, was more than he deserved. 

As if it was the easiest thing in the world, Miyu was boldly proposing that was something he could just do. 

It made him chuckle and shake his head.

“...You and I aren’t friends, either.” He said, in the end and stepped up to the railing, crossing his arms over it. “So _you_ don’t get to tell _me_ what to do.”

“Aww, c’mon.” She hip checked him, earning her a glare. “We bonded so much today!”

“As if.” He shoved her shoulder. “You still annoy me.”

“And you amuse me, Spe-chan.” She leaned her torso on the railing, arms dangling on the other side. “But think about it, ‘kay?”

“Shut up.”

For once, she didn’t retort anything, merely smiled. Their conversation was over. He should leave.

They stayed, in a strange quiet, until the sky turned purple and the city lit up.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Try as he did, he couldn’t put Miyu’s idea out of his head. Forget friendship--he _was_ concerned about Ryoken. He wanted to see him, even if there was nothing he could help him with. 

At their usual study table a few days later, the other three were hard at work, but Spectre merely stared at his worksheet. Patted his phone on his pocket. Looked up at the mansion overseeing the sea. Cafe Nagi had picked this spot out of all, today.

He’d never gone against Ryoken’s wishes, he’d never _had_ to, but this one time--would it be wrong? To selfishly seek him?

“Spectre, is this--” Jin’s voice cut off as Spectre stood abruptly. 

“I.” They were all staring at him but Spectre’s eyes were fixed on the mansion. “I have to go do something.”

“Oooh, are you going?” Miyu sounded excited. She pumped both fists in the air. “Go get your man, Spe-chan! Get all up in your Ryoken-sama’s face!”

Spectre ignored her, rounding the table to go. He was frantic. If he hesitated now, he’d chicken out.

“Ah, wait wait wait!” Kusanagi called out to him, then, taking him by surprise. “Spectre!”

“What?” He rounded sharply on the older Kusanagi. “I’ll pay you later--”

“That’s not it.” He said quickly. “Um. You’re going to see Ryoken?”

“If that wasn’t evident.”

“Yeah, well, the thing is…” Kusanagi scratched his chin, seemingly uncomfortable. “He’s not at home. He left a couple of days ago, I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“He _left_ ?” Spectre was no longer in a hurry to go. Now, he stepped up to the van with purpose. _Why do_ **_you_ ** _know about it, why didn’t he_ **_tell me_ **_-_

“Y-Yeah.” Kusanagi raised his hands to appease him. “I thought he’d tell you…I only know ‘cause he passed by on his way to the train station and I asked.”

Swallowing, Spectre forced himself to speak as calmly as possibly. “Do you know _where_ he went?”

Kusanagi seemed to debate whether it was wise to tell him or not. Whether Spectre’s intense stare or pity won over, he eventually replied:

“He’s visiting Takeru, as far as I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least you get an answer to the previous chapter's cliffhanger...? :'D I'm sorry Ryoken is like this Spectre JKAHKS 
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	15. And they were roommates (temporarily)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoken arrives at Takeru's hometown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter...it officially begins the Hometown Arc as I call it in my head. Not sure how long it'll be yet but! I am excited about it. I'm glad I could finish this before I start getting busy <3
> 
> ALSO YO we made it past 1k hits thank you all so much💕💕 I almost can't believe we are at Ch. 15...I'll probably say this every five chapters LMFAO
> 
> Aaand given following chapters might be slow going, how about some playlists to pass the time! I've been putting these together, these songs give me inspo:
> 
> [ SIDE A: TakeRyo ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/04MVIv3US2OYn9sOaufidY?si=RXBJ1h02Q7KWDbAOpVm9Sw)  
> [ SIDE B: The Wonder Trio ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/46Mg0mIuEcsC4OuEUsmauf?si=NDE7oELoSv6PRjKfjIRcLA) (THIS ONE IS A MESS but fun)
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Etc. always appreciated! <33

Ryoken glanced around the mostly empty, quiet street outside the train station. Checked the hour on his phone. Checked Takeru’s text message with the station’s name on his phone. This was, undoubtedly, the correct place. He was in Takeru’s hometown.

_“I mean, just--you look like you could use a break from...well, everything. Get away for a little while.” Soulburner had quickly added after Revolver merely stared at him. “So, y’know, if you want to, you can stay over with me.”_

_“...I…” Getting away. Wasn’t that the same as running? “Is that okay?”_

_“Yeah. If you want to.” Soulburner smiled lopsidedly. “I’ll talk to my Grandparents about it.”_

Everything in Revolver told him to refuse.

Yet, in the end, he’d said _yes_. Put together a bag with everything he needed, left Pandor in charge of overseeing things once more and hopped on a train with Takeru’s directions on his phone.

Now that he was here, what he’d agreed to was dawning on him.

Was this really okay? While Takeru had reassured him that his Grandparents wouldn’t mind, Ryoken had his reservations. He would be imposing on them. They’d know who he was.

He shouldn’t have come here, after all. He should turn back, there was still time--

“Ah, there you are!”

Ryoken’s head snapped up. Takeru was jogging up to him, tracksuit sleeves rolled up and his silver necklace bouncing with every step.

 _Well._ Too late to turn back now.

Slowing down, Takeru stopped in front of him, catching his breath. One corner of his mouth tugged up.

“Hey.”

“...Hello.”

There was a pause, as they looked at each other. It’d been at least a month since Ryoken’s release and a little more since they last met in person. There was no glass standing between them, this time, only a few feet. Despite having met in Link VRAINS, it was still like seeing Takeru for the first time in a while: hands in his pockets, tousled hair, crooked glasses. Familiar.

“Come on.” Takeru gestured for Ryoken to follow him, jostling him out of his thoughts. “My house’s not far.”

Ryoken followed, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“Did you travel okay?”

“Yes. It was a rather peaceful trip.”

“No screaming baby?” Takeru said. “I get at least one every time I come and go.”

“None, as luck would have it.”

Takeru led him through the neighbourhood streets, mostly desolate, save for a few people returning home from work. The sun had already started to go down. They shared minimal small talk until they got to Takeru’s house, too quick for Ryoken’s liking. He’d pictured a more average sized place, but even from the outside he could tell it was rather spacious; most houses on the way seemed to be, with at least some distance between each other.

Ryoken hesitated on the front door. As if sensing his apprehension, Takeru rolled his eyes and grabbed his arm to drag him in.

“Don’t just stand there.”

Ryoken stumbled with one foot inside and the other still outside. “Takeru is it really--”

“It’s fine, I told you.” Takeru insisted, letting him go. “Really.”

Ryoken fidgeted with his bag’s strap. Takeru sighed, resting his hands on his hips.

“I won’t force you to stay. But you are welcome here.” His face softened. “I mean it. ‘Kay?”

After a pause, Ryoken nodded.

“...Alright.” He removed his shoes by the entrance and carefully walked inside, Takeru leading him through the hallway.

“Grandma! I’m back!”

A moment after, a divider door to their left slid open. An elderly woman with lilac hair, reaching up to Ryoken’s chest, took a step out of the room and came to greet them.

“Welcome back, Takeru.” She said, before setting her gaze on Ryoken. “Oh! Is this the friend you told me about?”

 _Friend_. Ryoken swallowed, stepping back so he could bow to her in proper greeting.

“Good evening, I’m Ryoken Kogami. I apologize for imposing on you so suddenly...”

“Oh, dear, please, no need to be so formal!” Takeru’s Grandma smiled kindly at him as he raised his head. “Just call me Inko. Takeru told us you’d be coming over…” She tilted her head, eyeing him up and down. “...my, what a handsome young man!” 

Clearing his throat, Ryoken stood back upright. Inko chuckled behind a hand at his bashfulness.

“Make yourself at home, Ryoken-kun.”

“...Thank you, Inko-san.”

“Oh, Takeru, I already cleaned the guest room, so you can show it to him.”

“Yep.” Takeru gestured for Ryoken to follow him upstairs. “This way.”

The upper floor consisted of a short hallway and four doors, two at each side. Takeru led him to the last door to the right.

“It’s nothing fancy but…” He gestured around. “Get comfy.”

Ryoken took the room in as he stepped in; it was big enough to fit a futon, currently folded in a corner, a set of drawers against the left wall and a desk adjacent to the window. A look outside revealed part of the back porch and lines of trees in the distance.

There was a petite vase on the table, with blue bells in it. Ryoken brushed his fingers against it.

“Ah, that was Grandma.” Takeru said, arms crossed behind his head. “She kept complaining that the room was too bare and she wanted it to feel more welcoming.”

The detail touched him, but he knew better than to read onto it too much. She was only following basic etiquette.

“...They are lovely. I will have to thank her, later.”

“She’ll be happy.” Takeru uncrossed his arms, pointing a thumb at the drawers. “Feel free to use this room however you like, leave your stuff wherever. You don’t seem to be carrying much.”

Shaking his head, Ryoken left his duffel bag on top of the drawers for now.

“I wasn’t sure what to bring with me...I just went with the essentials.”

“That’s fine. If you need to do laundry we can do that too.”

A beat passed, Ryoken toying with his bag zipper. He parted and closed his mouth a few times.

“We…” The question tasted odd on his tongue as he whirled to face Takeru. “We are friends?”

Takeru blinked before his eyelids fell to half mast, giving him a look that said _‘are you an idiot?’_

“Uh, _yeah_?”

“Oh.” Ryoken breathed out, shoulders sagging.

“ _What_?”

“No, I...” Ryoken gazed to the side, half hiding his mouth behind his hand. His lips trembled, fighting between remaining stoic or smiling. “It’s nothing.”

There’s silence--then the sound of footsteps approaching. Ryoken looked down to find Takeru right in front of him, looking up at him with a small scowl.

“ _We’re friends_ , Ryoken.” He said, this time an affirmation. “Okay?”

 _Friends._ Warmth seeped into his bones at the word. Strange how he’d once rejected Playmaker for this very concept but now he wanted to lean into it, hoping it was something he could have. In the end he nodded, lowering his hand.

“...Yes.”

“...Good.” Takeru smiled, bumping Ryoken’s chest with the back of his fist. “Now c’mon. I’ll give you a quick tour of the place.”

The house wasn’t as big as Ryoken’s mansion but it had plenty of space: the upper floor was reserved for Takeru’s room, the guest rooms (one of them turned storage room) and a bathroom; the downstairs was bigger, rooms separated by sliding panels. From the entrance, it was one long hallway, with the living room slash dining room past a door to the left with the porch and the kitchen connected to it; to the right there was another, bigger bathroom; Takeru’s Grandparents room was at the end, past the stairs.

There was a room immediately to the right from the genkan, as well, but Takeru didn’t show it to him. He was opening the front door instead so Ryoken went with him.

“And this is the Dojo.” Takeru said, as they approached the building separate from the house. “Grandpa should be done with his class by now...” He slid the door open and peeked inside; Ryoken imitated him, peering over his head.

There was no one but Takeru’s Grandpa inside. He was putting away a cushioned mat into a closet.

“It’s rude to enter like that, Takeru.” He side eyed them.

Takeru opened the door fully, walking in. Ryoken followed a few steps behind.

“Wasn’t sure if you were done with class, Gramps.”

His Grandfather slid the closet door shut and turned fully towards them, arms crossed. Ryoken’s back tensed when he looked at him.

“You must be Takeru’s friend.”

“Yes.” Ryoken inclined his head shortly. “I’m Ryoken Kogami. Thank you for allowing me to stay here.”

When he glanced back up, Takeru’s Grandpa was giving him a scrutinizing look; Ryoken held his gaze, palms pressed to the side of his thighs. He looked like a stern man. It made him nervous to be observed so carefully by him.

“Hm. You can call me Osamu. Make yourself at home.” The man said curtly, then faced Takeru. “If you’re not using the Dojo close up, Takeru.”

“Got it.”

With that, Osamu left. Ryoken jumped when Takeru gave his back a slap.

“Relax! You’re stiff as a board, dude.”

“Apologies.” Ryoken sighed, unwinding the tension from his shoulders. “Your Grandfather is...” He wasn’t sure what word to use.

“He looks like a gruff but he’s not that bad.” Takeru shrugged, padding around the room. “He’s a pretty strict teacher though.”

Ryoken glanced around the Dojo. It looked like an old building, but well cared for.

“I take you learned here, as well?”

“Yeah.” Takeru toed at a patch of tatami that looked worned out. “He’s taught me all about Aikido and Judo since I was little. I’ve always been more of a scrappy fighter, though.” He curled his fingers, bringing them up to his chest. “Kinda made my own style, I guess.”

“Hoh.” Ryoken smirked. “You must be quite impressive in a fight.”

“Maybe.” Takeru smirked back. “What, you want a taste?”

Ryoken lifted his hands in mock surrender.

“I know to pick my battles. Even I am not so reckless to attempt to wrestle with you.”

“That’s smart--” Too fast for him to process it, Takeru’s foot swept his own from behind and the ground gave under Ryoken; he squeaked but before he hit the floor, an arm caught him. He was left blinking up at a smug Takeru.

“You’re easy to take down.”

Ryoken frowned, pushing at Takeru’s face and pulling himself up.

“Do not sound so arrogant. If this were a duel you’d be the one on the floor.”

Takeru swatted his hand with a laugh.

“Sorry but who was it that won our last duel?”

“You, but we have not dueled since, have we?” Ryoken arched an eyebrow, straightening his blazer. “I am confident I would win in a second round.”

“We’ll see about _that._ ” Takeru nudged his back, grinning. “Y’know, I could teach you how to fight.”

Ryoken headed for the door.

“What, so you can make fun of me?”

“I mean--the squeak you made _was_ pretty funny.”

Ryoken glowered at him as they left the Dojo which only made Takeru laugh again.

“Okay, sorry, sorry--hey, Ryokeeen!”

Ignoring him, Ryoken headed back for the house with faster strides.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Dinner was many things that night, and none of it was quiet.

“And Kiku swung back like--” Takeru made a backwards motion with his chopsticks, a bowl of rice in his other hand. “And hit the dude square in the face with her bag. It was hilarious.”

“Takeru…” Inko chided him lightly.

“What? He had it coming, he’s an ass. Aren’t you glad I didn’t intervene and let her handle it this time?”

“Did you?” Osamu arched an eyebrow. “Not intervene.”

A pause. Takeru shoved rice into his mouth, stalling to reply.

“Takeru.”

“Whaf?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full--”

Ryoken ate quietly, eyes on the table and listening to their back and forths. Occasionally he’d sneak a glance at Takeru next to him. Gesturing, breaking into a grin then frowning and talking back at his Grandfather. In a matter of seconds he’d gone through so many expressions; it was fascinating to watch.

“Is the food alright?”

It took him a moment to realize Inko was talking to him. He hurried to nod, swallowing before he spoke.

“It is very delicious. Thank you.”

She beamed.

“Don’t hold back, then! Do you want seconds?”

“No, it’s alright…” He didn’t think he could have seconds at the time. After how long he’d survived on small dishes or skipping meals, he’d just barely finished his serving of rice and chicken. Takeru, on the other hand, was at his second bowl of everything.

“Are you sure?” Inko asked. “There’s plenty of food. You look so thin, you should eat more…”

The tip of his ears warmed and he shook his head. Even if he’d wanted to eat more, he still felt too tense, too awkward, sitting here. It’s not that he hadn’t had company for meals before, but it’d never been like this. This warm and welcoming atmosphere--it made him feel out of place.

“I do not have much appetite at the moment. But thank you, Inko-san. For the flowers, as well.”

“My, you liked them? I’m glad.” She said, serving herself more rice from the cooker beside her. Ryoken expected that to be the end of their conversation but she continued. “Ryoken-kun, are you studying anything? Or working?”

Takeru’s grandmother probably didn’t have ill intentions with those questions but both were topics that he didn’t want to address too deeply.

“Not at the moment. I do have a work offer at SOL Technologies, however.” He replied smoothly. “The CEO has given me time to consider it.”

“Oh! That’s impressive.” Her eyes lit up. “What kind of position?”

“I would be assisting with Link VRAINS security. I have not been given many more details.”

“I see--but security! You must be quite smart.”

Before he could reply, Osamu cut in with a question of his own.

“Can SOL Technologies be trusted?”

The man’s face was impassive, but observant. Ryoken understood the veiled question behind those words.

“While there have been missteps in the past, the current CEO is trying to make SOL into a respectable company once more. I have spoken to him before. His intentions are honest.”

“Hm. But there’s been a lot of word about the company, lately.” Osamu rested his chopsticks over his empty bowl. “How do you know there aren’t things it isn’t hiding? Employees working behind the CEO’s back.”

Beside him, Takeru was tense. Ryoken didn’t have to look to know he was glaring at his Grandfather. Inko was silent.

“...That, I cannot know.” His hand curled over his pant leg. He had the urge to lower his head but forced himself not to look away. It was just Takeru’s Grandfather. “But I trust that the CEO is looking into all his employees, to ensure harmful projects are not being conducted without his knowledge. Not like in the past.”

There was a pause. Osamu seemed like he’d ask something else but Takeru pushed both hands on the table and stood up, cutting him off.

“ _Thanks for the food._ ” He sent one last look at his Grandfather. “Ryoken, come with me. I’ll help you set the futon.”

Takeru stomped out. Ryoken hesitated and then stood as well, bowing to the couple.

“Thank you for the food. If you may excuse me…”

“No problem, dear.” Inko was unperturbed, eyeing her husband with a scowl. “I apologize if my husband made you uncomfortable with his questioning…”

Swallowing Ryoken shook his head. He briefly met Osamu’s eyes before looking away.

“It is quite alright. You...You both have every right to question me.”

With that, he slid out of the living room and went upstairs after Takeru. Light streamed in from the guest room so he padded his way inside. Takeru had already laid out the futon and sat atop it, arms crossed and glaring at a spot on the floor. He looked up at Ryoken.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I didn’t expect Grandpa to get so fucking nosy, I told him not to. But he’s always like that.” He huffed, bouncing his leg irritably. “Butting into people’s issues.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” Ryoken replied in turn. Takeru frowned, his cheeks flushing, but Ryoken continued with a shake of his head. “You needn’t have got so worked up for my sake. It is alright.”

He knelt on a free space on the futon in front of Takeru, sitting on his ankles.

“I expected this much questioning, It is only fair if they don’t trust me. They cannot ignore who I am.”

“That’s not all you are. I didn’t invite you over to get _interrogated_.”

“But it is what people see.” The son of Doctor Kogami. Revolver. That was all he was in the public eye. “Your Grandparents deserve answers, too. It is the least I can give them for imposing on them. And...”

He crossed his hands on his lap, brushing the tattoo on his right with his thumb.

“I have to get used to the fact that other people will ask. When that time comes, I have to be ready.” He met Takeru’s gaze. “I cannot run away from that.”

Takeru watched him for a moment, still scowling but radiating less tension than before. In the end he sighed.

“Okay. But if Grandpa or Grandma start prying too much, stop them.” He bumped his knee to Ryoken’s. “You came here to relax.”

“I’ll try.”

Neither moved. Ryoken tried and failed to stifle a yawn, eventually; his piled exhaustion, the trip and the nerves had finally caught up to him.

“You should get some rest. I bet you’re tired.” Takeru stood with a chuckle, patting his shoulder. “If you need anything let me know. My room’s right across. Bathroom’s next to it.”

“Thank you.” Ryoken rose and reached for his bag, rummaging for his pajamas. He’d actually bothered to pack them; they were navy blue and plain, but at home he rarely used them so they still looked new.

He was removing his blazer when he realized that Takeru had paused at the door frame, staring. Ryoken arched an eyebrow at him, one corner of his lips tugging up.

“...Will you stay to watch me change?”

Immediately Takeru jumped, startling to attention.

“WH--no, uh. Sorry.” He ruffled his hair, averting his gaze, and threw a wave over his shoulder. “Good night!”

He closed the door on his way out. Ryoken chuckled inwardly; Takeru was rather easy to fluster, wasn’t he?

After changing he took a quick trip to the bathroom, removing his concealer and brushing his teeth. Then, he turned off the light in the guest room and settled under the covers, closing his eyes.

In his mansion, there were usually no noises at all, except for the sound of waves in the distance. He was too far away from the city itself to hear the cars passing by. He lived alone.

Here, it was quiet but not devoid of sounds: crickets chirping outside; the muffled murmur of Takeru’s Grandparents conversation or their movement downstairs; shuffling in the room opposite his, or the bathroom.

It was like being in a world apart. Takeru must hear these sounds every day, nothing more like background noise to him, but Ryoken was highly aware of them.

He listened to the night as it talked before sleep finally claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and they are,,,friends 😭😭😭💕
> 
> \--  
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter  
> moonmowon on CuriousCat


	16. Reachable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday in Takeru's hometown. Breakfast, getting lost and hanging out, among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY ENDING ANNIVERSARY VRAINS !!!!!!!!!!!!!! [pops party poppers] [lays down and cries] 
> 
> Anyways omg I didn't expect to finish this chapter for today but I got a burst of inspo+energy, so here it is!  
> For those that once read my 'make out (to make up)' fic, I do a small throwback to [the rice] because I am original and I still think it's hilarious.
> 
> Also, FC is now a series. [We have side stories now!!!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447659/chapters/64439227) Those I will update every now and then, to expand on ther POVs or as a sort of 'missed scenes' kind of thing. Hope you enjoy them too <3
> 
> Aand as I have mentioned in a side story note, and Twitter, I'm working on a TakeRyo AU for October !!! Most of the outline is done thus my goal is to finish it in a month for Halloween :'D I'm very very excited for it too.
> 
> VRAINS ending still leaves me a puddle on the floor, but I hope this chapter makes you all laugh and smile as it did me while I was writing it. One day, I'll write a comprehensive note on why I love Takeru and Ryoken together and individually so much and all they mean to me. In the meantime, I'll let the fic speak for itself! 
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Etc. always appreciated! Thank you all for sticking this far with the fic <3

Ryoken woke up with a start, disoriented. A futon, a dark room. Was he still in prison?

A faint morning light made it through the curtains, illuminating a vase on the desk. It took him a few slow breaths to remember that he was at the Homura Household. Right.

His phone, beside him, told him it was around six thirty am when he tapped the screen. 

Ryoken rolled on his side, closing his eyes. It was Sunday. On his daily routine, it would have just been another day, with things to do. But there wasn’t really anything he _should_ be doing right now. 

He was here to _rest_. Take time to _process shit_ , as Takeru had cleverly put. Ryoken was a thinker by nature: analysing and taking things apart, figuring out courses of action, solutions to problems.

Yet, when faced with his own reality, with actions he should take for his own sake, he drew a blank. Rest was just making him more _restless_. 

Trying to fall asleep again proved to be futile. He opened his eyes, staring at the wall right below the window. Birds were starting to chirp outside, as a new day started.

With a grunt, Ryoken sat up and rummaged around his bag for his clothes, changing out of his pajamas. Maybe he could go for a walk; this early, there wouldn’t be too many people around. He should get familiar with the place.

The door creaked, loud in the quiet, as he opened it. He headed for the bathroom to freshen up. Then, he padded downstairs quietly. Takeru’s Grandparents were probably still asleep.

However, the smell of food wafted out of the kitchen and, despite himself, Ryoken’s stomach growled. Who could be awake this early?

He peeked into the kitchen. His back facing the entrance, Takeru was humming something under his breath as he cooked, tapping one socked foot against the tatami. He was wearing his tracksuit, hair pulled in a small ponytail against his nape.

Ryoken approached.

“Good morning.”

“Agh!” Takeru jumped, almost losing his grip on the chopsticks. He shot Ryoken a wide eyed look. “Jeez, don’t sneak up on me! I didn’t even hear you.” 

“Apologies.” Ryoken said, lips curling up. Takeru kicked his leg a little as he turned back to the pan, rolling the eggs.

“What are you doing up this early?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“I usually go for a run at this hour.” Takeru said. “Been trying to keep up the habit.” He side eyed him. “You could have slept more. Weren’t you tired?”

Ryoken shrugged.

“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” 

“Ah. Well, since you’re awake I guess I can share some of my breakfast.”

“So kind of you.” A small pause. “...I did not know you cooked.” 

“Yeah, Grandma taught me the basics before I moved to Den City--she didn’t want me to survive on convenience store food.” He said. “And It’s kinda fun, actually.” 

Ryoken hummed in lieu of a reply, watching Takeru’s profile as he moved to check another pan with fish. He looked at ease, like this. 

“Hey, can you do the rice?” Takeru gestured at the rice cooker and then at the cabinet. “Cups are there to measure and stuff.”

“Oh. I.” Ryoken paused. Considered his options. Then nodded. “Okay.”

He couldn’t tell Takeru he hadn’t made rice before. But the cooker would do all the work, so it should be fine, right? 

Rice...water...maybe salt? How much? It had to be proportional, surely. One cup each made total sense--or, maybe two cups of water. The rice would absorb it. Time...20 minutes. 

With all that set, Ryoken closed the lid on the cooker and let it start working. Hope for the best.

On the same counter, there was a coffee maker. That, Ryoken knew how to work with. 

“Would you like me to make coffee, too?”

“Oh, sounds good.” Takeru pointed with his chopsticks. “Ground coffee is in that cabinet.”

The maker was a different model than the one Ryoken owned, but it wasn’t hard to get it going. Ryoken leaned back against the counter afterwards, hands fiddling on his lap with nothing to do. It was quiet, save for the soft whirring of appliances at work and the sizzling of the pans. Takeru had resumed humming, too.

Unsure what to do, Ryoken glanced around the kitchen. It was small but cozy, with one table meant for breakfast; there were colorful magnets on the fridge, decorative flowers or birds made of wood; a white board by the side of it that listed chores and scribbled notes of things to buy. There was one in sloppy handwriting that read ‘ _Gone running, breakfast in the fridge.’_ Takeru’s.

Everything in this room said _homely_ and lived in. Ryoken felt out of place, once more.

His eyes landed back on Takeru, who’d turned on another stove and was working on miso soup in a pot. The fish had been set aside on a plate, along with an assortment of salted veggies and egg rolls.

“This will be done in a sec.” Takeru turned to him. He tilted his head, frowning. “...You okay?”

A blink 

“Yes?” 

Takeru stepped forwards, leaning his hip on the counter next to him.

“That sounded like a question.” He poked Ryoken’s forehead. “I bet you’re thinking too hard about something dumb.”

Ryoken batted his hand away.

“Shut up.” He rubbed his wrist. “It is nothing.”

A pause. Takeru scratched his cheek. 

“Are you uncomfortable, after all? I mean, uh, I guess you’d be--I proposed this whole thing on a whim. Was kinda surprised you actually accepted coming here but if you still…”  
“It’s not that.” Ryoken shook his head. “I simply do not know what I should be doing. I...” He averted his gaze, speaking quietly. “What are friends supposed to do?”

The back of his neck grew warm. What a stupid question. Takeru was going to laugh at him.

“That's it?”

Ryoken looked back, finding Takeru smiling lopsidedly. 

“You don’t have to do anything-- _special_. There aren’t _rules_ to this, Ryoken.” He bumped his arm against Ryoken’s. “I don’t expect you to be any less insufferable just ‘cause I called you a friend.”

Frowning, Ryoken elbowed him back. 

“ _You’re_ insufferable.”

“Hah! Shut up.” Takeru nudged his elbow away. Small as these touches were, Ryoken had never been playful like this; it was new, warmth lingering where their arms brushed. If Takeru was any closer, maybe he’d burn, or maybe…

At almost the same time, the rice cooker and the coffee maker beeped, signaling they were done. Both detached themselves from the counter. Takeru turned off the stove and served the soup, bringing it along with the fish, veggies and egg rolls to the table; Ryoken took care of coffee (Takeru: “Cream and sugar for me!”), using the mugs Takeru handed him. Soon breakfast was set on the table.

Takeru clapped his hands. 

“Thank you for the food!” 

Ryoken muttered the same more quietly.

“You are chipper, despite the hour.”

“Eh. I’m used to being up early these days.” Takeru popped the rice cooker’s lid open, serving some on his bowl and then gesturing for Ryoken’s. He settled the full bowl by his plate after. “Eat up, skinny bones.”

“Cease with the nicknames.” 

The fish and the soup were good. Ryoken hadn’t had a proper breakfast in some time. Still, getting his system used to eating more than what it was used to would take time. He couldn’t quite finish everything. 

“Oh, yeah. Were you going to go somewhere?” Takeru asked.

“A walk, maybe.” Ryoken poked at the last bit of fish. “There should be few people around at this hour.”

“Yeah, it’s usually pretty quiet--” Takeru shoved rice into his mouth only for his eyes to widen comically. He spluttered, eyeing the bowl as though it’d offended him. “What the _fuck_?!”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s...It’s salty? But goopy? ” Takeru threw him a look. “What did you _do_?”

“I assumed it was proportional. One cup of each thing…” He pressed his chopsticks to his lips. “...but then I added more water. I thought it’d make it less salty.”

“That’s not--That’s not how it works! Have you never cooked rice?”

“No. But it isn’t hard.” Ryoken scowled. “Surely you’re exaggerating on the taste.”

“Try it.”

Ryoken grabbed his bowl and scooped some rice into his mouth. Immediately he blanched, nose scrunching up. 

“Ugh--it’s--”

“Terrible.” Takeru finished, voice shaking with the start of laughter. “How--How do you fuck up _rice_? With a rice cooker?” 

Ryoken’s shoulders rose defensively. 

“Is it that funny?”

“Hilarious.” Takeru was full out laughing now. “You put a _whole cup_ of salt! Who does that? I’d say you were trying to poison me!”

“Why would I poison us both? And it made perfect sense. Proportions.”

“No, hah, it doesn’t make any sense!” Takeru pointed his chopsticks at him, still shaking with remainant giggles.

It was hard to stay mad at Takeru when he was laughing; it was a nice sound. But Ryoken had pride and he wouldn’t be made fun of, so he did what he didn’t have a chance to do before. He kicked Takeru under the table. 

“Do not treat me as a fool.”

The kick earned him a wince, but Takeru’s smile wasn’t deterred. 

“Sorry I don’t mean to make fun of you but--it’s just…” He shook his head. “You’re this serious, smart looking guy, okay? Professional hacker man, former cyber terrorist whatever. But you can’t even cook rice right. The simplest of things.” He leant his cheek on his palm. His smile was cheeky. “Isn’t that funny?”

“...” Ryoken squinted. “You _are_ making fun of me.”

“What I mean,” Takeru continued. “is that there’s more to you than meets the eye. You’re…” His smile softened. “Different, than I used to imagine.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah. It’s like you’re more reachable, now.” The chair squeaked against the floor as Takeru stood, reaching for Ryoken’s rice bowl. “You’re in front of me.” 

Their fingers brushed as Ryoken let Takeru take the bowl from him, wordlessly. 

_Reachable. In front of me._

Without him being aware of it the distance between them had shortened this much. Had it started with the duel? During Takeru’s visits? Patrolling together?

It should be frightening. It _was_ frightening how close he’d allowed Takeru to get.

 _Draw back before you burn_. 

“Alright.” Takeru had tossed the rice in both their bowls in the trash, doing the same with the rest of the goopy mess in the cooker. “Come over here. I’ll teach you how to make proper rice.”

Ryoken rolled his eyes, standing up. He watched Takeru’s profile while he grabbed supplies from the cabinets again and started measuring things. The morning light hitting the side of his face. The little smile playing on his lips.

Small nudges, playful jabs. Takeru did that with such ease.

If Ryoken held out his hand, could he reach for him too? He felt so close, now, an existence Ryoken could touch.

Was it wise?

“See, it’s just a piiinch of salt! Not more!” Takeru closed the lid after everything was in place, setting the timer. He turned back to Ryoken, hands on his hips. “Got that?”

“Oh. Yes.” He hadn’t actually been paying that much attention.

“Good. Now help me clean up before you go.”

After all the dishes were clean and drying in the sink, they both headed for the door. Outside it was slightly chilly, given the hour, so Ryoken buttoned his blazer up as they stepped outside.

“You want to run with me?” Takeru proposed, to which Ryoken scrunched up his nose.

“No. I would like to conserve my lungs.”

“Haha! You could do with building some stamina.” Takeru threw a salute as he set out on a light run. “Well, might catch you on the way back! Don’t get lost on your walk.”

“I won’t.” How little faith Takeru had on him.

Soon enough he lost sight of Takeru, going his own way. Ryoken retraced the steps they’d walked yesterday when he arrived. The neighbourhood was almost desolate at this hour, especially on a weekend when most people choose to stay in bed for another hour. He buried his hands in his pockets to keep them warm.

 _Step, step, step_. It was strange to be able to hear his own shoes against the ground. This was nothing like the city where people’s footsteps fused together into background noise, with the added chattering and car tires on the asphalt. 

A neighbour dog barked in the distance; a vehicle rolled by on an adjacent street; someone passed by Ryoken, out on a morning run too. Leaves rustled as a cat suddenly jumped from a tree onto the edge of a wall, startling him. It meowed at him when Ryoken came close. 

He held out a finger towards the animal. It sniffed him until it deemed him worthy of giving it a scratch under the chin. Ryoken smiled lightly.

The sounds in this place were different. The air itself was. Such a stark contrast to what he was used to.

The cat departed and Ryoken continued on his way. 

Perhaps this was a good chance to organize his buzzling thoughts. They had quieted down with the focus on his arrival yesterday but now that he was alone, they came back to whisper. 

The future. With no direction, completely uncertain, something he had never asked for.

…

Perhaps that was too much to unpack right now.

What did he have in the present to focus on, instead?

Ensuring Link Vrains safety--well he was already on that. 

A job offer from Akira. A baffling thing.

Doctor Amano’s card sitting on his wallet, promising help.

The last one had him sighing, looking up at the sky. The thought of sitting in front of a therapist and opening boxes that had been left tucked tight in corners of his mind put an unpleasant feeling in his stomach. Too open, too bare. 

The stubborn and prideful side of him labeled it as unneeded. The guilt ridden, self-sabotaging side of him said he was undeserving of it.

How could he accept he deserved a good thing when they always slipped through his finger tips?

Every time he was selfish, something was lost.

Wanting a friend, he’d ended a victim.

Wishing to save those children, his father lost his consciousness to the virtual world. Then his life, to save Ryoken. 

Sigh. He just ended up at the same place. Circling the same things, never figuring a breakthrough--

“Ah, look out!”

Someone tugged him back from the path, just as a van zoomed past.

Lost in thought as he’d been, he hadn’t even been paying attention to the road. He let out a held breath, blinking slowly.

“Oh.” He turned to the person that had grabbed him. It was a girl, blue hair tied in a braid. “Thank you.”

“Jeez, It’s dangerous to be lost in thought like that--!” She looked up at him and paused, eyes growing wide. “...You’re…”

Ryoken froze. He freed his arm from her grip, bowing his head.

“Excuse me.”

He’s not sure which way he’s going but he rounded the corner before she could ask any questions. He has to get used to people recognizing him. Even if he’s in Takeru’s hometown.

A few deep breaths eased some of the tension. He’s barely looking where he’s going now--but he’s starting to see less houses and more port. In the distance, a lighthouse, a few boats tied to their posts, and the sea stretching out, blue and clear. 

Even here, the sight brought him calm. He let his feet carry him to the pier. He slowed down as he reached the lighthouse.

Takeru sat on the edge of the pier, leaning back on his hands. His chest rose and fell, catching his breath. He turned his head and grinned at him.

“Hey stranger. We meet again.”

“Hello.”

Takeru patted the spot next to him. Ryoken sat, letting his legs dangle from the border. There’s only the sound of waves and seagulls, hovering over the water or crying out not too far away. Not another soul.

“It’s nice here, hm?”

“Yes.” Ryoken nodded. “Being close to the sea is comforting.”

“Yeah.” The salty breeze brushed Takeru’s bangs. “I used to come here a lot when I was skipping school or if I wanted to be alone. Kiku came over after school most of the time though.”

“Ah. I knew you were a skipper.”

“Shoosh.” Takeru elbowed him lightly. “This was before I met Flame and heard about Playmaker.” One corner of his mouth fell. “...I was always getting in fights, or trouble. I couldn’t see anything ahead of me and I took it out on everyone around me.” 

_You messed up my life_. Soulburner’s words, dripping with anger, the first time they met. 

“You were angry.” Ryoken said, not a question, an understatement. Takeru nodded.

“I was. Still am, somedays.” His fingers curled over the concrete, lips downturned. “More often than I like.”

“...” Ryoken folded his hands on his lap. “Do you still hold anger for me?”

“No.” Takeru didn’t miss a beat. “...Sometimes.” He added. “When you’re being stupid. Which is a lot, for someone who’s supposed to be smart.” 

Ryoken scowled.

“Oy.”

“Haha.” Takeru shook his head, turning to face him. “Like I said before--you’re different. I’m tired of being pissed at you for the wrong reasons.” He knocked his sneaker to Ryoken’s ankle. “But if you make me mad I’ll still let you know.”

Ryoken snorted.

“Good.” Pause. “I appreciate that.”

“Hm?”

“That you won’t be lenient with me.” He intertwined his fingers together, looking at them. Takeru said none of this, between them, was based on pity. That Ryoken hadn’t somehow convinced him or tricked him into thinking about him differently.

Something in Ryoken wanted to trust that. Believe that Takeru saw who he used to be, who he was, yet he stayed.

“If you ask me,” Takeru began. “you’re the one that has to learn to be more forgiving with yourself.”

“Hah.” Deadpan. “I think coming here was the most permissive I have been on myself in years.”

“I knew you hadn’t relaxed a day in your life.” Takeru groaned. “Okay! I’ve decided--” He stood up. “Later, we’re going out to have some fun!”

“We’re already outside?”

“I meant going somewhere. I have to show you around!” 

“Oh. Alright.” Ryoken pulled himself up. He was curious to see what the rest of the town looked like.

They left the lighthouse, starting the way back. Then Takeru got a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Race you back?”

“I don’t run.”

“What, can’t keep up with me?”

Takeru began to walk faster and Ryoken, by reflex, sped up to match him. He frowned, something small but competitive rising in his chest.

“I never said that.”

“You might have the longer legs,” Takeru picked up the pace, grinning. “but I’m definitely faster.”

A beat. Their gazes locked, stubborn and challenging--before both broke into a run, shoes kicking up dirt.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Ryoken might be stupid.

Or maybe being around Takeru made him stupid.

Why did Ryoken think he could outrun him? Takeru was physically fit and healthy. Ryoken might as well be a stick with legs at the moment.

Panting for air and brow drenched in sweat, Ryoken leaned against the side of a fence, lungs burning. He hadn’t been able to keep up for long and had eventually lost sight of Takeru. He was probably back at the house by now.

After he caught most of his breath, he looked around.

…

…

Where was he?

During his walk he’d taken notice of a few landmarks close to Takeru’s house but he couldn’t see any of them right now.

…

He wasn’t lost. It wasn’t a big neighbourhood, he’d find his way.

Take a turn here. Go straight there. There’s the cat from earlier napping on another tree.

…

Okay. Maybe Ryoken didn’t know where he’s going.

“...Perfect.” He huffed. He pulled out his phone, considering texting Takeru--then pocketed it again. No. He couldn’t be wandering aimlessly forever. Something familiar would appear.

Of all familiar things, when he rounded the next corner, he bumped into the same braided girl as this morning. She had shopping bags in both hands. She blinked up at him. 

“Oh, you again!”

“...” He bowed his head, meant to excuse himself again--then his phone rang, making him divert his attention to it. He picked up.

“Ryoken.”

“Takeru.”

“You got lost, didn’t you.”

 _Dammit_.

“No. I am not lost.”

Laughter from the other end. 

“S-Sorry, I shouldn’t have left you behind. Where are you?”

Ryoken took another look around. There was a relatively large house to his right and what seemed to be another Dojo. A sign on the door said something about a Kendo school. The braided girl was still regarding him curiously, instead of leaving. 

“...Somewhere with a Dojo. For Kendo.”

“Kendo--oh, you must be at Kiku’s!”

“...” Ryoken eyed the girl. “Does she have blue hair, in a braid?”

“Usually--wait. Is she there?”

“Takeru.” The girl--Kiku?--spoke aloud, laughing. “I can hear your voice all the way here away from the receiver.” She smiled at Ryoken. “Can you put him on speaker?”

Ryoken did.

“Kiku! Were you out shopping? Didn’t expect you two to meet so soon, uh--”

“Yup.” She said. “I actually bumped into your friend earlier this morning, too. He ran away from me!”

Ryoken’s cheeks grew hot.

“Apologies.” He said. “I did not know who you were.”

“It’s okay.” She laughed. “Takeru, don’t worry. I’ll show him to your house.”

“Ah, sorry, thanks! Then I’ll see you two soon.”

The call cut with a click after that. Ryoken pocketed his phone, turning to Kiku. 

“Give me a second.” She opened the porch door, holding up her bags. “I’ll leave this inside.”

While she was gone, Ryoken took a moment to pinch the edge of his nose. Today, he’d just been making a fool of himself--first in front of Takeru, now with his friend. 

“Alright!” She came back and pointed forwards. “It’s this way.”

Nodding, he walked after her, keeping some distance between them. So far, she seemed friendly, what he’d expected from Takeru’s occasional tales. However, he couldn’t help but be slightly tense.

“...Um.” He cleared his throat, speaking before the silence became too awkward. “Apologies, again, for my rudeness this morning. It wasn’t personal.”

“It’s okay, okay!” She said. “I recognized you from TV--ah, I guess that must have spooked you, yeah? You’re kind of a celebrity after all.” 

“I would not call myself that.” Ryoken said, pursing his lip. “...But yes, it was related.”

“Takeru mentioned you’d be coming over. Didn’t expect we’d meet already, um...Kogami-kun, right?”

“...Yes.” He said. “Takeru has mentioned you, as well.”

“All good things, I hope.” She chuckled. “Well, let me introduce myself properly anyways! I’m Kiku Kamishirakawa.” She pointed back with her head. “As you saw, my family has a Dojo, like Takeru’s family. Takeru’s Grandpa is friends with mine, so we’ve known each other since kids because of the business.”

“...I see.” He was unsure what else to say. Then, out of politeness he asked: “You train as well, then, Kamishirakawa-san?”

“Yup!” She brought both hands forwards mimicking holding a sword. “I’m pretty good. Do you practice any sports, Kogami-kun?”

“No…” He thought back to his attempt at outrunning Takeru. “I’m not particularly sporty.”

Kiku gave him an up and down look that was far from subtle, humming.

“Hm. I see!”

The conversation trailed off. It wasn’t long before Ryoken started to see more familiar surroundings, and Takeru’s house in the distance. 

“You know, I’m glad I bumped into you. I was wondering what type of person you were.” Kiku said, abruptly. Ryoken’s back tensed. “Whenever Takeru came home from visiting Den City, he was either in a good mood, or kinda lost in thought or pissed off. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to strangle you or go out for coffee with you.”

“Usually, it is the first.” He mumbled and it made Kiku laugh.

“Maybe it’s both!"

They both slowed their pace as they approached the house, Takeru sitting on the front step. He perked up when he saw them and stood back up. Kiku waved at him.

“I don’t know you well, yet. But I haven’t seen Takeru so animated in a while, so... ” She said, lower, only for him to hear. “Thank you, Kogami-kun.”

Being thanked caught him off guard. He stared at her, something tight in his chest.

It was the last he would have expected. Why was she thanking him? Ryoken hadn’t done anything for Takeru, these past few months.

It was Takeru that kept doing things for him.

Before he could object, Takeru came over, swinging an arm over his neck and catching him in a headlock.

“There you are! I was considering reporting a lost child.”

Ryoken elbowed him, clicking his tongue. 

“I was fine. And Kamishirakawa-san was kind enough to lead the way.” He turned back to her. She was still smiling, seemingly amused by the situation. “...Thank you. Apologies for the trouble.”

“Jeez, you apologize too much! It was no problem.” She rocked back on her heels. “I hope we’ll all get to hang out while you’re here, Kogami-kun. You better show him around, Takeru.”

“I’m planning to, later today.” Takeru finally let him go. “Wanna come with?”

“Today…” Kiku tapped her cheek, scrunching up her brow. “Did you finish the homework for tomorrow?”

Pause.

 _Swoosh_ , the wind blowing past.

“Fuck.” _Smack_ , Takeru slapping his forehead. “I’m an idiot.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

“Sorry.” Takeru groaned, his face meeting the low table in his room. Papers were scattered on the surface. After lunch, Ryoken had followed him here. “I completely forgot about it. But I promised I wouldn’t let my grades drop.”

“It’s fine, Takeru.” Ryoken sat on the bed, taking the room in. It was about the same size as the guest room--small by his standards--but well furnished. Takeru’s Duel Disk was in a corner of the desk, plus other school books, his bag slung over the chair. A few posters adorned the walls with Link VRAINS idols, Playmaker included. 

“You can go read or something. You’ll get bored watching me agonize over math.”

“That sounds far more entertaining.” Ryoken smirked at the glare Takeru threw his way. Then, he shook his head. “I could help you, if you wanted. High School level mathematics is rather simple.”

“No, it’s not, it’s evil.” Takeru huffed. “And you’re here to chill, not help me with school.”

“I do not mind. You are letting me stay at your home--I feel this is the least I could do to repay you. And…” He knelt down on the opposite side of the table, staring at a corner of it.

“And...?”

“...Does this not count as hanging out?” He muttered. “Although I suppose homework is not a particularly fun endeavor and that is a requisite for it to be considered a hanging out, so--”

“It does count.” Takeru cut through his rambling, leaning forward on the table. Looking up, Ryoken met his eyes, seemingly brighter. “We’re hanging out, Ryoken.” He smiled. “You know, when you get unsure, you start speaking even more formally.”

Ryoken’s ears felt warm. He jutted his chin out to the side.

“ _Hmph_.”

Takeru laughed. But Ryoken didn’t think he was making fun of him, this time. 

“Well, I’d really appreciate the help, if you’re up to it.” Takeru fidgeted with the edge of a page. “...How are you with trigonometry?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as a closing note, given the day... If not for VRAINS, I wouldn't have picked writing up again. I wouldn't have met a bunch of cool people I know today, nor would I be working on this fic in the first place. This show means a lot to me so--thank you VRAINS !!! <3 <3 
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	17. Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miyu schemes. Spectre distracts himself with books and talking to Jin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOOOOO WE ARE BACK !!! I wanted to update much earlier but alas, classes drained most of my energy this month T_T But I'm glad I got to finish this ch for today which is also this fic's first year anniversary!!
> 
> I'm still like WOW have I really been planning and writing this fic for a whole year?! And people are still reading?? It makes me very happy honestly ;_; ❤️ Thank you all so much for sticking this long! I wanted to finish an art piece to commemorate FC's bday but I didn't make it in time for today. Hopefully I finish it sometime soon!
> 
> Also there was no update last month because, as I mentioned last CH I think, I was [working on a fic for Halloween!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289390/chapters/66674392) Part 1 is up for whoever wants to check that out <3
> 
> Anyways onto this chapter--long time no Spectre! I'm cooking things up for his side of the story and I'm rather excited for it >:3
> 
> Comments/kudos/etc. always appreciated! <3

The air at lunch time was gloomy that day, a sharp contrast to the sunny weather they were having.

Miyu bit at her melon bread and looked at Jin opposite her on the grass: eyebags, shoulders hunched and about to faceplant his own lunch. Another sleepless night for him. Given the dark look he was sporting, she classified today as a _Don’t Test Jin-chan’s Patience day_. He’d surely skip next class and find a quiet spot to nap.

She looked at Spectre, next to Jin: he was always scowling around her, would usually refuse to even join them at lunch break. 

Today, he didn’t fight back when she dragged him here. Today, Spectre was quiet, not unlike him, but it was like he wasn’t present at all. Spacing out, head in the clouds. 

Aoi, beside her, appeared unbothered, though she was actively ignoring Spectre’s presence. _Jeez!_ Miyu really wanted to know why those two didn’t get along. 

The worst, though, was the silence. Miyu tried, she really tried to just munch on her food but--!

“Agh! I can’t take this anymore!” She threw her arms up in the air. “What’s with this depressing air today!” She pointed at Spectre. “You! You’ve been down since the other day. You _never_ have lunch with us. You haven’t called me an idiot all day! Who are you!?”

It went ignored. 

“Is this about your Ryoken-sama?” She insisted. “Is it ‘cause he left without telling you? Are you moping? Is this how you look when you mope?”

That flipped a switch. Spectre turned a glare on her.

“Shut up, Sugisaki-san. I am not _moping_. I am thinking. Your blaberring is _annoying_.”

“Oh, good, the attitude is still there,” She sighed in mock relief. “But c’mon, share, share!”

She had a fair idea what was going on here: Ryoken-sama, gone! Leaving Spectre, his loyal subject, behind without a word...Heart, completely broken! It was clear as day how devoted Spectre was to that man. It’d been clear, in the look of his face after Shoichi told him the news, that it’d shocked him.

It was like a soap opera. It amused Miyu to no end.

But she’d rather Spectre not be sad. They were friends--and friends helped mend each other’s broken hearts!

“It is none of your business.” There it was, the catchphrase. Miyu blew a raspberry. 

“I thought we bonded the other day and got past that, Spe-chan.”

Nothing. She was about to add something else when Aoi spoke up.

“It must be frustrating, that Revolver isn’t confiding in you.”

Something in the air shifted. Aoi took a slow sip from her juice box and looked at Spectre through her lashes.

“Maybe he finally got tired of you.”

The look Spectre flashed her was nothing short of murderous. Miyu’s hair stood on end and she shimmied closer to Jin, whispering conspiratorially.

“Jin-chan. _What is happening_?”

Jin sighed deeply.

“I don’t know. I’m too tired for whatever this is,” He closed the lid on his lunchbox, half eaten, and stood up. “I’m going to the library,” He glanced between Spectre and Aoi and said, more loudly: “Don’t kill each other.”

And with that, he left. Miyu pouted after him before turning back to the matter at hand.

“How rare that you don’t have a comeback ready, Spectre,” Aoi jut out her chin. “Did I hit a nerve?”

 _Ah_. Even when Aoi was being vicious, she was so beautiful. Miyu wished she’d spare her an equally intense look...no, wait! That’s not the point here. Focus, Miyu.

It _was_ weird how Spectre was saying nothing, even when his eyes spoke more than words. Fury, cold and unrelenting, covering for something else.

“Spe-chan…?” Miyu reached to pat his shoulder but Spectre stood before she could.

“And is _that_ all you have to say?” His lips curled in that crooked grin of his, not a hint of humor behind it. “This is a cheap way to get back at me. Do you think I’m hurt? Please, Blue-san. Your taunts resemble those of a petty child.”

“I’m just curious, Spectre,” Aoi was unperturbed. “What you’ll do now that Revolver left. I thought you were waiting for him all this time.”

Spectre scoffed, turning on his heel.

“What I do is none of your concern.”

Miyu watched him leave and, once he was far away enough, rounded on Aoi.

“What was _that_?!”

Aoi cleared her throat, composing herself.

“I’m sorry, Miyu-chan. I…I kind of--let myself get irritated by his attitude, again. I spoke too much.” 

“You were kindaaa mean there,” Miyu bumped their shoulders together. “It’s unlike you! Though,” She placed a hand to her chest. “It still had my heart racing.”

Aoi shoved her with a snort, cheeks red.

“Stop.”

“Are you ever going to tell me?” Miyu jabbed a thumb the way Spectre went. “What bone you got to pick with him?”

“It’s…” The bell signaling the end of lunch break rang in the distance. Aoi stood, brushing grass off her skirt. “It’s kind of pathetic, I think. From me.”

“Please, Aoi-chan. I’d never think of you that way,” Miyu slung an arm around her shoulders, smiling. “Spe-chan is an ass half the time. I don’t think I’ll be surprised by whatever he did.” 

“Hah,” Aoi leaned against her side as they walked back towards the school. “Yeah. I don’t think you would.” 

“Does it have to do with the time he was with the Knights of Hanoi?” Miyu scrunched up the wrapping of her melon bread and aimed it at a trash can as they passed it. “And why he calls you ‘Blue-san?’”

“Wait,” Aoi said. “You know he was with Hanoi?”

“Oh, yeah! You should have seen it--a classmate insulted his Ryoken-sama and Spectre almost choked him! Jin-chan and I had to intervene. Between the rumors about him and that, we kind of reached that conclusion,” She blinked at Aoi, who was gaping. “I didn’t tell you?”

“No!” 

“Oops! Sorry.”

Aoi sighed. They were already walking up the steps to the first floor.

“Well...it’s related to that time.” They were in separate classrooms so Aoi duck from under Miyu’s arm. Her smile was a bit strained. “I’ll tell you later. Maybe.”

“Alright!” Miyu blew her a kiss as she went the opposite way to her classroom. “See ya later, Aoi-chan!”

As she bounced back to her seat, waving at a few classmates, she surveyed the room. Jin had gone to the library. Even after the teacher walked in the room, Spectre didn’t come back either.

 _Boooooring_. Miyu tapped her pen to her cheek. Was there a way to cheer everyone up? Well, Jin probably just needed to sleep right now. But she was missing an important piece of the puzzle here, one that Aoi would hopefully provide soon. 

Once she knew how it all fit together, would she see an answer? Could she make them get along again? Did it matter?

Ignoring the teacher, Miyu turned to a blank page at the end of her notebook and started to scribble ideas. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Spectre forgone going back to class. He could probably just leave, but his bag was back at the classroom and he didn’t want to explain himself. Feigning sickness to stay at the nurse’s office was a viable option, but his feet ended up carrying him to the library. 

Not a soul was around. The person in charge was also gone: there was a note that said “Went for coffee, back in five” on the front desk, so it was easy for him to slip unnoticed. 

He eyed the books on the shelves with dull interest, picking one at random. Now that he was here, his head had space to wander again. 

“ _Maybe he finally got tired of you.”_

Clicking his tongue, he put the book back in its spot before he could rip a page out. 

Spectre didn’t want to admit that perhaps something of what Aoi had said rang true. He didn’t want to admit he’d been thinking along that line for a while, now.

Ryoken came back yet hadn’t asked for his assistance. 

Now, he’d left with _Homura. Homura who had visited him frequently, who_ _ **apparently**_ _has some kind of_ _ **bond**_ _with Ryoken now, that they are close enough that Ryoken would go to him and not_ _**Spectre**_ _, why, why,_ _ **why**_ _didn’t Ryoken say anything to_ _ **him**_ _\--_

Spectre tripped and fell on his face as soon as he rounded a bookshelf. It took a moment to register the fact, and that he was laying half on the floor and half on something.

“Can you get off.”

 _Someone._ He lifted himself up and looked back.

Jin, with his head propped on one arm, was laying across the floor in this corner of the library, between two bookshelves. He didn’t look very happy with Spectre’s knees pressing against his stomach.

“...Apologies,” He rolled off as best as he could, Jin grunting when he accidentally kicked him, and then sat on the floor. “So you were here.”

“I said I would,” Jin ran a hand across his eyes. “You were too busy glaring at Aoi-san to hear me I guess.”

Spectre didn’t reply to that. He leaned against the opposite bookshelf so he could face Jin.

Everything about him read _exhausted_. The grey eyes that stared back at him looked dimmer than usual, a little poofy with dark circles under them. Spectre had been so far in his own head he hadn’t been paying attention before.

“You look miserable.” Spectre said. 

“No _shit_.” Jin bit back, uncharacteristically rude. He sighed, sitting up against the shelf behind him and bringing one knee to his chest. “I was trying to nap before you tripped over me.”

“It does not sound like you were very successful.”

“No,” Jin turned to flip through the books next to him. “That’s why I’m in a bad mood.”

Quiet fell over them. Outside, a whistle went off, along with a teacher shouting out directions for P.E class. 

Just as Spectre was wondering if he should leave Jin alone, Jin spoke.

“Why are you and Aoi always bitching at each other?”

The choice of words made Spectre snort.

“She is resentful towards me because of past experiences.”

“What did you do to her?” 

“I tricked her,” It’s a _large_ oversimplification. “She thought she could save me from my loneliness and heal my aching.” Spectre shrugged, shaking his head. “Her naivety and kindness were her downfall. I crushed her and showed her what a futile attempt it was. Ah,” He smiled with a touch of nostalgia. “What times those were.”

Simpler times, when all that mattered was catching and destroying the ignis, completing the tower. Always by Ryoken’s side and aiding him in his goals.

Now Spectre didn’t even have that. No goal, no mission--only this mundane school life.

“...Wow,” Jin blinked slowly at him, deadpan. “You really are an asshole. You enjoy trampling on people that much?”

“I never denied it.”

“Was this from your time as a criminal?” He turned back to the books, picking one out.

“Correct. She was trying to interfere with Revolver-sama’s plans and thus I--” Spectre was cut off by Jin tossin the book to him. He caught it, staring at the cover and recognizing it. 

“Oh. Isn’t this…”

“The copy I mentioned. For the book I recommended.”

The criminal novel. Spectre had almost forgotten his curiosity over it.

“...” He looked up at Jin. No matter what he told him, Jin was never freaked out. Always met his gaze head on. “Do you not care that I just admitted to hurting your friend?”

“I care. I think Aoi-san should kick your ass,” Jin took off his jacket, folding it into a square. “I have a feeling she will, in time.” One corner of his mouth tugged into a tiny smile. “I’ll laugh at you when she does.”

“Hah. She can _try_.” 

Aoi Zaizen might have assisted them once but in a duel, Spectre could still defeat her. He was certain of it.

Jin dropped the folded jacket on the floor and then his head atop of it, curling with his back to Spectre. Spectre narrowed his eyes at the sight.

“Should you really turn your back on someone like me?” He taunted. 

“I don’t think you’ll stab me right now,” Jin said. “Even if you did, you wouldn’t have enough time to clean up the scene.”

“So trusting of me, Kusanagi-san.”

“Jin.”

“Hm?”

Jin tilted his head back a little, face still obscured.

“Call me Jin. ‘Kusanagi-san’ feels weird when people usually call my brother that.”

“Oh.” Pause. Aside from Ryoken, Spectre didn’t get into the habit of addressing other people by their first name. But in this particular case, an exception could be made. “Very well. Jin-san.”

“So polite for someone so rude,” Jin turned back around. “Now shut up and let me nap.”

Spectre would have shot something back but decided to abide Jin’s words and kept quiet. Even if a moody Jin was new, he’d rather not have that rage fall upon him. 

He turned to the book in his hands, picking at the slightly ragged edges of the spine. It was an old copy.

Sighing, he got comfortable and opened it on the first page, starting to read. Not like he had anything better to do.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Given he was the only one who really tended to the school garden (ever since he took over, no one had offered to help), Spectre indulged in planting whatever he pleased. Seasonal flowers, of course, but also herbs and plants that he could use for infusions. 

Did it include potential, deadly ones? 

He would neither deny nor confirm that. 

The ‘ _Careful, do not touch’_ sign would at least keep a few fools from trying to mess with those.

It’s none of Spectre’s business if Jin got the rest he needed at night. Whether it was because he stayed up reading--as he once confirmed--or something else, on the days he escaped to the library between classes. Spectre didn’t care.

No, really, he didn’t.

That wasn’t why he handed Jin a small pouch with leaves a few days after tripping on him in the library.

“...” Jin held it in his palms, observing it. “What’s this?”

“It’s _tea_ ,” Spectre offered Jin a slip of paper with detailed instructions. “Chamomile. It relaxes the body and mind. It’s good to drink before you sleep.”

“Huh,” Jin tilted his head. “Awfully considerate of you.”

“We have exams coming up. I would rather all my hard work teaching you not be lost because you fell asleep in the middle of one.”

“Sure,” Jin placed the pouch on his bag, paused, and then shot Spectre a look. “This isn’t poison right?”

Spectre’s lips curled up, shrugging as he turned to go to his seat.

“I suppose you’ll find out, won’t you?”

If he so wanted, Jin could choose not to drink it, anyways. Spectre wouldn’t be offended-- it would be smarter for Jin not to trust him, after all.

Yet, later that day, his phone beeped with a text from a number he didn’t recognize.

> [??] [6:02pm] it wasn’t poison
> 
> [Spectre] [6:03pm] Jin-san, is it? 
> 
> [??] [6:05pm] ah, yeah. miyu-san gave me your number
> 
> [??] [6:05pm] she says to unblock her btw
> 
> [Spectre] [6:07pm] No. Had it been up to me, I would have never given her my number.

_Coordinating study sessions will be easier if we can text!_ She’d said, snatching his phone during a single moment of distraction. By the time he’d yanked it off her grip, she’d already got what she wanted.

He’d promptly blocked her before his phone could blow up with notifications.

> [Jin-san] [6:08pm] well, i tried
> 
> [Jin-san] [6:09pm] anyways. thanks for the tea. i didn’t die
> 
> [Spectre] [6:10pm] It could be a slow acting poison, you know. It could act within a day, a week, a month.
> 
> [Jin-san] [6:11pm] ah
> 
> [Jin-san] [6:11pm] that’s smart. if i suddenly die in a month it’ll be harder to trace the cause back to you
> 
> [Jin-san] [6:12pm] i’ll prepare a note just in case. nii-san will be sad but he’ll avenge me u_u
> 
> [Spectre] [6:13pm] I could have moved cities and changed my name by that time. Yours would end up a crime without closure.
> 
> [Jin-san] [6:15pm] tragic
> 
> [Jin-san] [6:15pm] maybe i’ll become a ghost and haunt you for years
> 
> [Jin-san] [6:16pm] then a paranormal investigator with get on the case and through mysterious writing appearing on their notebook in blood, i’ll point them to the killer
> 
> [Spectre] [6:17pm] ...Is that from another novel?
> 
> [Jin-san] [6:19pm] maybe
> 
> [Jin-san] [6:21pm] when you finish the one you’re reading now, I can lend it to you. if you want
> 
> [Spectre] [6:22pm] We will see.

The conversation stopped there. Spectre briefly re-read it later: even through text, Spectre heard the unperturbed tone to his voice when talking about potential murder.

Jin was an utmost weird character.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

“Have you figured out who the culprit is yet?”

Jin peered over his shoulder, at the old copy in his hands. Spectre had decided to check it out of the library and had brought it with him to class, reading during breaks. 

“I have my suspicions,” He bookmarked the page he was on. “Dorothy-san, for one.”

After that day in the library, the story had hooked him in and he was almost at the halfway mark. It was also a good distraction from thoughts about Ryoken and what he was up to. Sometimes, at least.

“But her alibi is strong,” Jin said. “She had no chances of slipping the poison in the tea.”

“Exactly. She appears innocent. But who is to say she didn’t poison something else, much earlier?”

“Something else…?” Jin eyed him with interest.

“The rim of the cups, for instance. They have yet to check those,” Spectre waved a hand. “Another alternative would be the sugar cubes. Classic maneuver. The poison would melt with them, leaving no evidence. Which,” He smirked. “would also explain why Elizabeth-san did not die from poisoning, despite having drank tea that afternoon. They suspect her for that. But in a fleeting moment she mentions disliking sweets and sugar in her tea.”

“I see. So you think the culprit was targeting her, as well?”

“Correct.”

Jin was quiet--then he smiled, pleased. He leaned his hip against the desk.

“Interesting deduction.”

“Ah, did I get it right?”

“Keep reading to find out.”

“ _Hey, nerds!_ ”

Miyu came out of nowhere and slammed her hands on Spectre’s desk, startling both him and Jin. Spectre shot her a glare.

“Sugisaki-san. Is there any chance you could be _any louder_?”

“You know I could,” She grinned before it morphed into a pout. “If you’d just unblock my number I would tell you all this over text.”

“No.”

“Tell us what?” Jin asked.

“So,” Miyu drummed her fingers on the table. “I’ve been thinking--”

“Be careful.” Spectre quipped.

“Shoosh!” Miyu waved him off. “ _I’ve been thinking_ \--all study and no play just won’t do! Our _brains_ need some rest too. Thus...”

Her eyes were gleaming--gleaming with an _idea_. Coming from her, It already didn’t bode well. 

“Why don’t we all go play in Link VRAINS?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


	18. A proper guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoken spends a day helping Inko, among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this chapter the "Ryoken bonds with Takeru's Grandma" chapter, which ended longer than originally planned...and there's SOMETHNG that doesn't convince me from this chapter yet that I don't know WHAT it is but rather than get stuck here I decided to post it and evaluate it more later LOL
> 
> Despite that I am fond of this one overall :''')c I like to make Ryoken interact with characters he would have otherwise never interacted with in canon (and Takeru's hometown won't be the last of that hehe). 
> 
> ALSO classes are almost, almost over so I'm hoping I'll have time in the summer to plan and write more for this fic....or games, I also need some time to rest my brain LOL
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Etc. always very much appreciated <3

Ryoken woke to the feeling of something hard against his cheek. The floor, maybe. He let out a small grunt, blearily blinking his eyes open.

“Ah, hey.”

He looked up. Takeru, opposite him on the low table, flashed him a lopsided grin before turning back to the papers in front of him.

Right: Ryoken was helping him with homework--and at some point he’d used the wooden surface as a pillow. He had risen early that day, so it was only natural he was tired, but he hadn’t expected to doze off in the middle of something.

“Apologies,” Ryoken pressed the heel of his palm between his brows. “I...I do not know when I fell asleep. How long was I out?”

“Sometime after you explained what I had to do on problem eight,” Takeru said. “I think it’s been an hour or so.”

“You should have woken me up.”

“Nah, it’s fine. You were tired--and I’m almost done anyways,” He scribbled some more numbers before dropping his pencil and stretching upwards with a groan. “Aaah, finally!”

Ryoken slid the homework towards himself to look it over. Takeru’s handwriting was a bit all over the place, but readable: eraser marks everywhere and sharp strokes. He pressed the pencil too hard against the paper.

“Good job,” He tapped a plus sign on the tenth problem. “This is supposed to be a minus, though.”

“Crap,” Takeru snatched the paper back, frowning while he fixed the mistake. “So if it’s a minus this becomes a plus and uh--there?” 

Ryoken peeked over.

“Yes. Correct.”

“Phew,” Takeru sagged, leaning back on his hands. “Thanks for the help with this. I would have been agonizing over it for hours otherwise.”

Ryoken smirked.

“To think I could have defeated you with mathematics all this time. I should include a math problem in our next duel.”

“Then I’ll include an _ass kicking_ ,” Takeru shot back. He tilted his head, humming.“But next duel...when?”

They looked at each other. Ryoken hadn’t planned to bring it up as a challenge, but the question kept popping up in his head. 

“Well,” Ryoken crossed his arms. “Whenever we pleased I suppose. There is no time pressing reason to, anymore.”

“Hm…” Takeru leaned over the table, chin atop his arms. “When was the last time you dueled just for--fun?”

“...” Ryoken considered the question. When, indeed? It felt like a lifetime ago. Himself, another person. “I suppose over ten years ago. Once.” 

“Yeah,” Takeru looked to the side. “Me too.”

The silence stretched, both lost in their own thoughts. Ten years ago, that innocent duel he’d shared with Yusaku after their paths had crossed--whether fate or coincidence had brought them together that day, it'd been one of many catalysts. 

He wondered what duels Takeru had had back then, what fond memory he could retain from them--or if now they were bitter, duels having become something of a means to an end.

“Y’know,” Takeru said, breaking the quiet. “Even though there were stakes I...I enjoyed our last duel,” He fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie. “I think that’s the closest to fun I had in a long time.”

Ryoken rested back against the edge of the bed, nodding slightly. 

“It was the same for me.”

Takeru had half his face hidden in his arms, lilac eyes staring at him intently, as though he were conveying something wordlessly. Ryoken couldn’t read minds. Were they thinking the same thing? Was Takeru also--

“Should we--” “Do you want to--”

Pause. Ryoken cleared his throat, meaning to speak again but a knock came on the door, breaking the moment. 

“Dinner is ready, you two.” Inko called from the other side. 

“Ah, we’ll be there in a sec!” Takeru replied, standing up. “Oof, actually, I’m starving, didn’t realize how long it’d been.”

Ryoken rose as well and joined him out the door.

Neither brought the topic of a duel that night again. It could wait--they had nothing but time. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

For the next two days, as though catching up on much needed sleep, Ryoken overslept. His sleep schedule had never been linear--some nights he stayed up till the sun came out--but he probably ought to set an alarm. It was unpresentable to oversleep while he was over at someone else’s home.

On the third day, Ryoken rose early but at least not at six am again: just a little past nine am. When he padded downstairs, Takeru was long gone for school, but his Grandparents were in the kitchen having breakfast. Osamu was just rising from the table when he walked in.

“...Good morning.” Ryoken said.

“Ah, good morning Ryoken-kun.” Inko greeted back, a steaming cup of tea between her palms. 

Osamu merely offered him a nod before he was off. The front door opened and closed a moment later. 

From what Ryoken inferred, he held classes in the Dojo later in the day (after kids were out of school), but perhaps he taught some in the morning, too.

Inko frowned after her husband for a second, then turned back to him with a smile.

“Wait a minute, I’ll heat up breakfast. Did you sleep well?”

“Ah, I--” He cut himself mid objection, as she was already rising from her seat and heating up a bowl of food. He pulled out a chair and sat. “I slept well, thank you.”

“I’m glad. I bet you’re surprised by how peaceful the nights are here, eh?”

“I live apart from the city so it is rather quiet there,” He said. “But it is different, yes.”

Inko placed a bowl of rice and one of soup before him, plus some rolled eggs similar to the ones Takeru made yesterday. He nodded his head and muttered a thank you before digging in. 

“Do you live on your own?” Inko sat opposite him with her cup of tea.

“Yes.” He said.

“Forgive me if I pry too much but do you have other relatives?”

 _Other than your Father_. She was cleverly evading him as a subject.

“Not that I am aware of,” He drank some soup, stalling to continue. “It is just me.”

“My, not even your mother?”

Again, he busied himself chewing.

“She passed away when I was little,” He said evenly, keeping his eyes on the food. “I do not remember her.” 

“Oh...dear, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked--”

“No. It is quite alright,” He shook his head. “I am not upset about it.”

Ryoken didn’t think about her often. What she looked like, what her voice sounded like, they were like an unclear and fuzzy dream: she’d been there, once, but he couldn’t piece her together anymore. He couldn’t say whether he missed her or not.

All he had of her was one book, collecting dust on his personal bookshelf.

“You may ask me about my Father, if you wish,” He added, despite the uncomfortable clench in his stomach. “I know what you and your husband must think, after your Grandson brought me here.”

Inko drank her tea, settling it silently on the table afterwards.

“All I think,” She said. “is that I want to get to know the person Takeru deems a friend.” She smiled. “That’s all.” 

Ryoken’s hold on the chopsticks tightened. He nodded, resuming eating.

“And don’t let my husband make you feel unwelcome,” She continued. “He’s stern, and too quick to judge, thinking he knows best...but really it’s because he worries and fusses over Takeru the most. Sometimes you have to argue with him a little before he understands.”

Given the way Takeru and Osamu often went back and forth during meals, he could see what she meant. Both his stern way to care and how much Takeru had to fight back to prove his point with him. It still amazed him how they could argue one moment and make up the next; it wasn’t anything like the conversations he’d had when his Father had still been around. 

“That is alright,” He put his chopsticks down and clapped his hands together in thank you. This time he’d finished more food than yesterday. “It is only natural for him to have concerns when it comes to me. I am not bothered”

Inko sighed.

“You sound more mature than my own husband, Ryoken-kun.”

Ryoken stood with his plates in hand, determined to at least wash his part. After he was done scrubbing the dishes, he fumbled on what he was supposed to do next. Takeru was at school, and wouldn’t be back till late afternoon. Ryoken had brought his laptop with him so maybe he could attempt to contact Pandor and be up to date with the state of Link VRAINS…

“Say, were you planning on doing anything?” Inko asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Not particularly...I was just musing that.”

“Would you like to accompany me?” Inko washed her tea cup by the sink. “I have to do some shopping. You haven’t been to town yet, right?”

He’d only seen it from afar, while at the pier with Takeru yesterday. And, considering these people were allowing him to stay at their home, it was only proper for him to go and help her with groceries. 

“I have not, no.”

“Perfect!” She brushed down her kimono before turning for the door. “Come along, then.” 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

While the city was constantly bustling with people going from one place to another, the shopping district here was far less crowded at this hour. Some vendors talked loudly with their neighbour, or a couple of housewives shared a heated conversation on the line outside a shop. 

In Den City, it was hard to take everything in, all too colorful and in your face, people pushing past each other and hurrying you along. Here, walking at the same relaxed pace Inko did, Ryoken turned his head from one side of the street to the other, paying attention: newly, freshly painted story fronts or signs that had seen better days, old and rusty; fruit, vegetables or an assortments of plants and flowers lined out on the street to catch the eyes of possible buyers; carts selling taiyaki or some other sweet treat; the smell of takoyaki coming from a corner store.

It was full of colors and sensations but in a starkly different way.

“Inko-san! Welcome!” 

They’d approached a man selling vegetables. Ryoken stayed a few steps behind Inko but politely nodded when the vendor met his eyes. He had his hair in a bun and gave him an unsubtle look up and down. 

Ryoken tensed but the man smiled, glancing at Inko. 

“So you got help today, huh?”

“Yes. He’s a friend of my grandson’s.” Inko replied. “He’s staying over with us.”

“Oh? Don’t think I’ve seen Takeru hanging ‘round this one before,” He turned to him. “What’s your name? You’re not from around here, are ya?”

“...Ryoken. I am from Den City.” 

“Ah, city boy!” He laughed good naturedly. “You look the part.”

Did he? Ryoken didn’t ask why but he looked down at himself, while Inko and the man turned to talk among themselves. They seemed to be on friendly terms, asking minutely about each other’s families.

When Inko got what she’d come in for--quite a few full bags--Ryoken took some from her. The weight startled him and the grocery man laughed at him.

“Will he be able to lift with those thin arms of his?”

“I’m...quite alright.” Ryoken bit out, frowning, and stood back upright.

“Haha! Inko-san, make sure ya feed this one well, ” The vendor waved at them. “Have a good day!” 

Inko waved back before chuckling behind a hand, as they departed. He arched an eyebrow at her.

“No, no...” She gestured to the bags in his hands. “Will you be okay?”

“Yes. This is nothing.”

Nothing turned to something as they continued to shop. He always offered to carry at least one bag but he’d never expected this much weight. Ryoken’s arms were getting tired and vendors or acquaintances of Inko kept stopping her to talk. 

As a matter of fact, an elderly woman had been gossiping to Inko for nearly _twenty minutes_. 

Ryoken knew more than he cared about a woman and “ _her husband who turns out had another family in the next town over!”_ and was also the “ _yet unconfirmed father of two other kids”_. One of which was a high school delinquent and “ _wouldn’t it make sense if he was the father, then? After all he used to be a gang leader back in the day--”_

“I don’t think that’s enough to say they are father and son…” Inko interrupted her. “Anyways, Nana-san, we have to get going.”

“Oh, oh, sorry for keeping you! I have to go, too-- I will keep you updated, though!”

Only when the woman left did Ryoken sag. Inko patted his back, taking pity on him.

“How about a short break?”

She led them to a couple of benches near a food stand.

“Do you do this every day?” He asked, dropping onto one of them. “How?” 

“Years of doing so. You just haven’t built the muscle for it yet!” She smiled. “And you’re not used to being addressed so much, it seems. Were you a shy kid?”

“Not quite...I have never had to speak to so many people on a daily basis.” He hung his head slightly. “I apologize if I am dragging you down, however.” 

Only now that he had no choice but to interact with people in person did he realize just how exhausting social interaction could be. He wasn’t used to it, outside of his circle of acquaintances. Inko had done most of the talking but the occasional question thrown his way caught him off guard.

Inko shushed him.

“Now, now, having a young man like yourself around helps. You will get used to it, should you want to accompany me again,” She glanced up, eyes wrinkling as her smile grew. “On a lovely day like this, it’s nice to have company while shopping.”

Ryoken looked up as well. There was not a single cloud in the sky, and the wind carried the fresh spring smell and cherry blossom petals. The sun peeked through the leaves of the trees and a bird chirped from its spot on a branch, murmurs of cars and conversation in the distance.

“...It is a lovely day, indeed.” He conceded. “I would not mind joining you again, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” She rose from her seat, picking up her bags again. “Now, shall we head back and have lunch?”

Lunch consisted of reheating leftovers from last night. Eating with Inko and Osamu was slightly awkward without Takeru to act as a filter. He was usually the one carrying the conversation, as Ryoken had observed in the past few meals. Inko talked shortly about their shopping trip to Osamu and Osamu offered her hums or short questions in return, but it was mostly a quiet meal. The news on TV acted as background noise.

After he was done eating Ryoken excused himself to his room upstairs. He took his laptop out of his bag and settled on the desk by the window. He typed a few quick commands before Pandor’s face appeared on the screen, the dark background of Hanoi’s former base behind her.

“Ryoken-sama,” She said. “I did not expect to hear from you so soon. Is anything the matter?”

“Everything is fine,” He said. “I merely wanted to stay updated on Link VRAINS’ status.”

Pandor stared with unblinking eyes.

“I believe you are meant to be resting.”

“I am,” He tapped his finger to the table. “Now, update me.”

Pandor slid a screen her way.

“Link VRAINS is the same as when you departed. Stable. No major incidents,” She said. “Ah, and there will be a tournament held soon.”

“A tournament?”

“Yes. The first hundred to sign will be taking part in it. I believe Blue Angel and Go Onizuka have confirmed their participation already. The user boards suggest people expect Playmaker to be a surprise guest. I find that unlikely, as he has not been sighted.”

“...I see,” Well, that wasn’t new. He doubted Yusaku would decide to come back for a tournament he probably had no interest in. Still, it had been some time since Link VRAINS hosted any events, so it was best to play it safe. 

“Check the list of participants and make sure no one suspicious is taking part. Events like these are when one must be vigilant.”

“Certainly, Ryoken-sama.”

While Pandor assured him nothing was out of place, Ryoken personally checked her analysis and the records at his disposal. Everything was as it should be. After Link VRAINS’s strike for incidents, it was jarring for it to be this uneventful--which left him with little to do.

“...You are bored, are you not?” Pandor pointed out.

Ryoken frowned at that, scrolling through the same line in the report again.

“I have nothing better to do.”

“Thus you are 'murdering time' as they say?”

“It’s _killing time_ ,” He corrected. “And no. Ensuring Link VRAINS is safe is--”

“A promise you made to Soulburner-san,” Pandor interjected. “Who also invited you over under the premise that you rest and collect your thoughts.” She closed the screen he’d been looking at. “I can handle Link VRAINS security. Should anything happen, I will inform you immediately. ”

“...” Ryoken dropped his cheek on his palm. “I never expected telling you to do as you please to result in you becoming so forceful, Pandor.”

“Do you regret it?” She asked. “Giving me free will?”

The question gave him pause.

She was an AI he’d created in order to hunt the Dark Ignis. That’d been her sole purpose. Her slowly developing attitude wasn’t quite the same as what the Ignis had possessed as _free will_. Unlike them, who obeyed no one’s orders, Pandor’s code prevented her from coming to consider humans as her enemy.

All Ryoken had done was present her with the opportunity to choose, in the end, instead of getting rid of her. For someone who had mercilessly hunted the Ignis, terminating Pandor had been something he’d avoided.

“ _Does it hurt?”_

“ _It’s like killing your own child.”_

Ah.

Perhaps he understood his father’s words, now. 

“Hmph,” He straightened his back. “I do not plan to go back on what I said to you. Do as you please.”

Pandor smiled.

“Then, I shall go back to my duties,” She bowed her head. “Take care, Ryoken-sama.”

The screen closed itself after a moment. Ryoken sighed, idly moving the cursor around his desktop, musing what he was to do with the rest of his day.

He tapped on a text file, reading over familiar words again. Akira Zaizen’s proposal.

> “...Should you be interested, there is an open position at SOL Technologies for you. I believe we could mutually benefit from working together.”

With everything he’d inherited from his father, he had more than enough savings to survive for a long time. 

Money wasn’t an issue--but working for SOL technologies did align with his goal to look over Link VRAINS, and would ensure a steady income in the long run. Living off his father’s money would mean he continued to rely on a man that wasn’t here anymore. 

It’d also, at least, give him something to do with his time when he was back in Den City.

It presented other issues entirely, however. If he accepted the position, the hardest hurdle would be to convince people of the company’s trustworthiness...and his own. It’d be putting himself in the spotlight.

Ryoken reclined back on his chair with another sigh, rubbing his forehead. A light breeze came in through the window, making the curtain and the blue bell on the desk sway. He peeked inside the vase; it’d been a few days so he should change the water. Spectre had mentioned flowers put in vases died faster but maintaining the water clean made them last a little longer. 

With that in mind, he grabbed the vase and stood up, crossing the hall to the bathroom. He emptied the vase in the sink and filled it with clean water, arranging the flowers carefully. 

On his way out he almost crashed into Inko.

“Oh, Ryoken-kun. I was just coming to find you…” She eyed the vase in his hands.

“I was changing the water,” He said before she asked. “Did you need me for anything?”

“Yes, well, if it isn’t much of a bother…” Only when she lifted the cloth in her hands did Ryoken see what she was holding. “I have a small favor to ask. Could you try this on?”

She unfolded it, revealing it to be a yukata.

“I am confectioning this for a young man about your height so I want to see if I have to modify anything.”

“I see,” The request was unexpected, but he saw no reason to refuse. He nodded. “I will try it on then.”

“Thank you! Ah, you can just wear it on top of your clothes.”

Holding the vase on one hand and slinging the yukata on his other arm, he went back to his room with Inko in tow. He left the vase by the desk and took off his blazer.

In truth, Ryoken had never worn traditional clothing before. Upholding to traditions such as shrine visiting for New Years, or attending festivals, weren’t things his Father had been strict on, so he hadn’t had the chance.

Sliding the yukata’s sleeves on, crossing it at the front and tying the undersash was easy enough, but he stared at the _obi_ with apprehension.

“Would you like me to do it for you?” Inko asked when he paused and he nodded awkwardly. She chuckled, unfolding the obi and wrapping it around his waist.

“You’ve never worn one before, I take,” She said. “Not even at a festival?”

“No,” He replied, watching her movements. The knot didn’t look particularly hard to make when she did it. “I do not have the custom to attend festivals.”

“Is that so...what a shame,” She finished tying the knot and stepped back. She smiled. “You look good in it.”

He peered down at himself. Did he?

“Hmm…” She adjusted the collar a bit, checking the sleeves length. “These could be shorter…” 

Ryoken stayed put while she muttered to herself and tugged at different parts of the yukata or marked something that she had to fix. 

“There we go,” She said, leaning back. “Would you like to see how it looks before taking it off? If I remember, I kept a mirror in that closet…” 

She slid one side open and rummaged a moment before pulling a full body mirror out. She rested it against the closet door so Ryoken could take a look.

The cloth was a dark grey, with a simple striped pattern and a black sash. Whether it looked good on him or not Ryoken couldn’t say, but he liked the muted, dark tones of it. It was well crafted and comfortable on him. He rubbed the soft cotton sleeves.

“Did you sew this yourself?” 

“Yes, by hand. In my free time, I mend or confectionate clothes for some extra money,” Inko said. “The Dojo does well on its own but it’s never bad to have savings.”

“I see,” By the quality of the stitches, there was a meticulousness behind it that would put some mass produced clothing to shame. Still… “Would it not be more efficient to use a sewing machine?”

“The one I used all these years has recently broken down. It was an old model already. But it’s alright,” She reached out to fix the collar, again, humming to herself. “I like to sew by hand. It can be quite relaxing.”

That was a patience Ryoken could respect. He would certainly grow frustrated: for him, it was faster to buy new clothes rather than mend the old ones. But if she had made this from scratch, it spoke of years of perfecting.

“You have lovely craftsmanship, Inko-san.” He said, in the end. 

“Why, thank you!” She beamed. “It makes me happy to hear so.”

After taking the garment off and returning it to her, she carefully folded it and tucked over her arm.

“Thank you for letting me use you as a model,” She said. “I might bother you again while you’re here.”

“It was not a bother.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wrinkling a little. Before he could decipher what that look meant, she spoke again.

“Takeru should be getting back from school soon. I’m going to get started on dinner.”

“Would you like some assistance?” Ryoken offered, while she was halfway out the door, before pausing. “Ah, no. I am not particularly good at cooking, I…”

Chuckling, Inko waved him over. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I would appreciate the help anyways!”

They descended the stairs. Inko disappeared for a moment to leave the yukata in her room before going into the kitchen, Ryoken following after her. She unhooked an apron from a hanger and handed it to him.

“You’ve chopped vegetables before, at least?” At his blank look, she leaned her cheek on her palm. “Have you cooked at all, before?”

“Not...really.”

“Dear! How did you survive this long?” She chidded him as she would Takeru and Ryoken’s cheeks burned.

“I ask myself the same thing.” He muttered, as he tied the apron at his back. It was orange with a white flowery pattern.

“Well, we all start at some point. I’ll peel, you chop!”

Ryoken stood rather uselessly while Inko gathered the ingredients. She washed the vegetables in the sink and peeled them as though she were handling fabric, ribbons of potato peel coming off in swirls. She made it look so simple.

She set up the cutting board on the counter and placed the potato on top, handing Ryoken a cooking knife. 

“We’re making _Nikujaga_ so cut these into bite sized pieces,” She instructed. “Just do it nice and slow, okay?”

Ryoken nodded. There was no way to mess this up as he’d done with the rice--it was just cutting. He grabbed one end of it and started chopping, laser focused. Occasionally the potato would threaten to slip against the board so he had to change positions.

The cubes ended up in varied shapes: some too chunky and others too small. He grumbled, taking the next one. He would not be beaten by a potato.

“You’re doing fine,” Inko encouraged, seeing his frown. She’d long since finished peeling and had set to slice meat. “You should have seen Takeru when I first taught him to cook,” Dimples formed in her cheeks when she smiled. “He could have fried the eggs from just glaring at them! Like you are.”

“Hah,” Ryoken placed a carrot in front of him. He imagined Takeru, face scrunched up in concentration, the same way he looked at his homework. “You have taught him well, it seems.”

“Yes,” Inko said. “Lots of close calls with the fire alarm, though! Would you believe me if I said he burned _noodles_ , once?”

“...” Ryoken pressed his lips together, fighting a laugh. “I do.”

He was going to tease Takeru later.

All he had left was the onion. It irritated his eyes and nose when he cut into it.

 _Nice and slow, nice and slow--ouch._ That was his finger. He held up his hand, clicking his tongue.

“Ryoken-kun--ah! You’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing.”

“Here, put your hand under water--I’ll get a bandaid.”

Ryoken stood with his hand under the faucet, slightly embarrassed. It wasn’t a big deal. But Inko went through the trouble to get the first aid kit from one of the cabinets. 

“I can…” Ryoken began, trailing off as she was already taking his hand and drying it. The bandaid she picked out had a tiny flower pattern on it, too.

“Does it hurt?” Inko asked while wrapping it around the cut around his index finger. 

She’d been nothing but kind to him since he arrived. He wasn’t sure how to deal with that--it was easier to accept Osamu’s palpable distrust than her gentle mannerisms. It was easier to react against anger and distrust than kindness he was undeserving of. 

“No…” He swallowed, throat a little tight. “Thank you.”

He resumed cutting, wishing to spare himself any further embarrassment. Inko didn’t say anything and they worked in silence.

A few beats later, the front door opened and closed.

“I’m home!”

Steps padded across the tatami floor until Takeru peeked in through the kitchen door. His black uniform jacket was open at the front and his sleeves rolled.

“Welcome home, Takeru,” Inko said from her place on the stove, assembling the meat and the vegetables.

“Hey, Grandma--” He cut himself off when he saw Ryoken there, eyebrows furrowing. He gave him an up and down look, staring a second too long at the apron. 

“Welcome home.” Ryoken said.

“...Is this a parallel universe?” Takeru muttered, shaking his head. “Wait, are you helping with dinner? Is that gonna be safe to eat?” He pointed at the stove. “We might be getting poisoned.”

“Takeru,” Inko admonished. “Don’t be rude. Ryoken-kun has been a great help today.”

“I just chopped vegetables,” He was done so he moved over to the sink to wash the knife and the board, putting them away. He turned to Inko. “Do you require assistance with anything else?”

“No, that’s alright. I just have to cook everything together now.”

Nodding, Ryoken untied the apron and bent his head as he unhooked it from his neck.

A small weight rested atop his hair, startling him

“Thank you for all your help today, Ryoken-kun,” Inko said softly, her hand patting his head. “You’re a nice kid.”

Ryoken froze. It was such a simple gesture. Father had pat his shoulder or his head when he was very young, too, much more fleetingly. Heavier. The weight of Inko’s hand on his hair was light and something else, something foreign or forgotten. That pressure on his throat tightened, like a vice, stifling his words. 

He blamed the onions for the burning at the back of his eyes. That’s what it was.

“Oy, Grandma, don’t embarrass him…” Takeru protested weakly.

“Sorry, sorry,” She gave Ryoken’s head a final pat before retrieving her hand. She nudged Ryoken’s back. “Go on.”

Ryoken forced himself to move, even if he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go. When he exited the kitchen into the living room, Takeru followed suit, walking around him. He peered at him with a concerned frown.

“You’re making a face.”

Two slow blinks.

“What?”

“Like...I dunno,” Takeru said. “You kinda stood there frozen. I thought you were embarrassed.”

“No…It is not that,” Ryoken brushed his hair, averting his gaze. “It is nothing.” He collected himself, erasing the traces of whatever face he’d made, before Takeru would ask more. 

It worked because Takeru didn’t push it.

“I’m gonna go change,” He tugged at his uniform, turning for the door. “Hope you really didn’t poison the dinner.”

“Do you really have room to speak, Takeru?” Ryoken said, one corner of his mouth tugging up. “I heard you once burned noodles...”

Takeru gasped, swiveling around.

“Who told y-- _Grandma_!”

“Really,” He was full on smirking now. “how do you achieve that? I suppose you really live up to your name--”

Takeru groaned, practically absconding upstairs to avoid further teasing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


End file.
